Sweet Music's Throne
by Quiet2885
Summary: What if Christine had not sung at the Paris Opera House as a teenager and was engaged to Raoul before ever meeting Erik? Perhaps she will appreciate her angel more after a taste of life without song. EC COMPLETED
1. A Better Life Ahead?

**First, let me just say that this is my first fan fiction so please be kind. This story is a rewrite of ALW's story, so if you're not in to alternative reality fics, then don't read. Here, Christine has not been working in the Opera House but rather has been living in a music conservatory during her teen years. She has not met Erik yet, but she has already become engaged to Raoul. It is through him that she gets to the Opera House and meets our beloved Phantom. The story will most likely end up E/C because I just love that pairing. My characterization is mostly taken from the play, though I do have some inspiration from the movie. Anyway, that's enough of that. I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Christine, Raoul, Erik, or any other characters in this story who belong to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. I also do not own the songs, which are by Andrew Lloyd Webber unless otherwise noted.**

"Christine Daae, will you marry me?" The Vicomte had lowered himself onto one knee and was looking up into the young girl's face expectantly. Slowly, he took her hand and placed the elaborately decked ring onto her finger. Christine blushed and quickly gazed around to see if anyone was watching, dozens of thoughts flying through her head as she looked down again to meet Raoul's awaiting blue eyes.

She had been expecting the proposal for some time now, as they had been courting for several months. Often she debated what her answer would be once he delivered the question. Is this what she wanted? To most people, the answer would obviously be yes. She, the daughter of a poor violinist, was being proposed to by a Vicomte! And her childhood sweetheart at that!

At the corner of her eye she noticed several of her friends from the conservatory whispering, envy plastered upon their faces. It was then she remembered what she would lose should she accept the proposal. Not only would her friendships end, but the dream she had carried since she was a small girl would be put to rest. Never would she sing on a stage. Never would she become a prima donna. Though still young, Christine knew the risk Raoul was taking by marrying below his class. His family was most likely displeased with the decision. She could never become a professional singer as his wife, or as anyone's wife for that matter.

All the same, there was comfort in knowing that her future held no more uncertainty. Raoul was an honest man who would protect her and provide for her, and Christine did feel an innocent love for him. She would be a Vicomtess...adorned in the finest clothes with servants at her beck and call. Money would never be an issue. If she were to say no, she would regret it forever.

"Oh, Raoul! Yes, of course I will marry you." Her heart fluttered as he rose to his feet. The Vicomte, who had been put at unease by her delayed response, felt himself calm down. Taking her two hands into his, he looked down onto her shining face. While searching for a place to give his patronage, Raoul had encountered Christine at the music conservatory. They had been great friends in their younger years...telling stories, playing by the sea. What were the chances that he would meet his childhood sweetheart after nearly ten years? He knew that they belonged together. Yes, she was from an undistinguished background, but he preferred that to the pompous women he had been introduced to throughout his life. Christine, with her mild mannerisms, would easily become a respected woman of society.

"You have made me extremely happy today, my love. I will give you a wonderful and rich life." They stared into each other's eyes until Raoul glanced down at his pocket watch. "Oh, it is getting late, and I am afraid I have an appointment. We shall go through the details at a later time." He laid a kiss on her dark brown curls and confidently strode off into the cool evening air. Christine stood on the steps staring after him. Though she felt warm inside, there was also a somewhat unpleasant sensation building up in the pit of her stomach.

"It is just nerves," she told herself quietly. "I will soon find great happiness."


	2. A Gift from Heaven

_Papa! Papa! Wake up!_

Christine jumped up and found herself to be laying on a leather sofa in one of the many sitting rooms of the conservatory. Several of the other women looked up from their books to give her irritated glances.

Her heart was still pounding, and her face had broken out into a cold sweat. Placing a cool hand to her forehead, she let a long sigh. God, how she wished she could let her past go and stop having these nightmares. Her father had been gone for so long, and it was time for her new life to finally begin. Perhaps if he had not filled her mind with so many silly fairy tales, it would have been easier to forget, particularly that accursed Angel of Music story!

Christine began to lay her head on the arm rest again when she realized it was time to meet with Raoul. They had set a date for the wedding in six months, which is when Christine would abandon her musical studies and move into Raoul's large estate on the outside of Paris. Try as she might to be ecstatic over her future, the thought of the new life still gave her mixed feelings.

Slowly, Christine got up and checked herself in the mirror before heading downstairs to meet with Raoul. She smiled, but her tired brown eyes betrayed all of the emotions inside of her. "Be happy, Christine. Your father would have wanted this life for you," she told herself unconvincingly. Walking down the carpeted steps, she saw Raoul waiting patiently by the banister, a slight smile upon his face.

"Hello, my beautiful fiancee," he said embracing her. "Well, I told you that I would have a grand wedding present for you, and I did not lie."

"Oh, Raoul. The ring and the dresses were enough! You have given more to me than I could ever have dreamed."

"This next gift cannot be surpassed, though, my love." He sat down and brought her to his side. "As you know, I have been looking for an institution to support. I have always had an interest in the stage arts. That is what brought me to you. Well, I have found the perfect place. I am now the new patron of the Paris Opera House! My dear, we shall have tickets to every show whenever we please. With all that I plan to give them, we shan't be refused any request." The Vicomte awaited her reaction.

"You do not know how much this means to me, Raoul," replied Christine, nearly in tears. "I always dreamt of singing there, and this has to be the next best thing. Thank you so much!" She embraced him.

Raoul hugged her tightly, though he suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable. He hoped she would not get any ideas about trying to sing or involve herself with the stage crowd, as his family was already giving him a difficult time about the marriage. Gently, he would have to guide her as she learned her place in society. Nevertheless, now was the time for celebration. "Come, Christine. Let's go out for dinner. When I meet with the managers next week, I shall take you along." They quickly kissed, and strolled out of the room and into the darkening outside.

* * *

Christine gazed up wondrously at the magnificent building. She had been there once when she was very young but had pushed that dreadful day far from her mind. Now, the opera house loomed in front of her in all its splendor, gold plated ornaments decking the outside of the stone walls. She breathed in the smells of the city as Raoul talked to his driver. Imagine! She could go here for play after play, night after night, losing herself in stories of romance and adventure. Perhaps she could even pretend that she was the one on stage. 

Raoul took her by the arm, and together they walked in. She looked around the circular room at the thousands of plush red seats awaiting guests and elaborate silver statues lining the walls. Balconies reached up as high as the eye could see, and an enormous chandelier hung from the ceiling. At the front, Christine could make out a grand stage with many people gathered atop of it. Loud music could be heard accompanied by an extremely high pitched soprano voice. "Who is that?" asked Christine, wincing as the woman seemed to scream the words.

Raoul chuckled. "That would be La Carlotta, the prima donna of the opera. Just try to ignore her for she is a bit, shall we say, dramatic." They walked into the large auditorium. Christine sucked in her breath and looked at all of the scenery and costumes. From the signs outside, she knew that they were in the middle of producing _Hannibal_. Carlotta wore a flamboyant red dress with yellow floral designs that sparkled in the bright lights. Around her the other actors wore matching, though less glamorous, outfits.

"Are you enjoying this, Christine?" asked Raoul softly.

"Very much so. This is the greatest gift I have ever received." She squeezed his hand, and they walked up to the stage. Two men came out to greet them.

"Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin!" exclaimed Raoul. "How are you this fine day? I would like to present to you my fiancee, Christine Daae." Christine offered her hand to each manager, and they each kissed it. She blushed at not being used to being treated with such formality.

"Daae?" wondered Andre aloud. "I know I have heard that name somewhere before."

Before Christine could reply, Raoul quickly cut in. "Christine's father was a famous Swedish violinist. Christine herself is quite the accomplished singer, though that will be coming to a halt as soon as she begins her life with me."

"Ahh. Well, it seems you have found yourself a fine bride," replied Andre. "Now, Monsieur. I know I told you that I would give you a tour of the opera house last time, but it has become impertinent that I discuss something with you . Something...private." Andre looked up, as if to make sure someone wasn't listening from above.

"Of course," replied Raoul. "I would be happy to help in any way I possibly could. Christine, you are welcome to sit and watch the rehearsals while I am gone." Christine nodded and sat down in a seat toward the middle of the room. She wondered why the managers had seemed so uneasy but knew it was not her place to ask.

Settling in her seat, she watched as La Carlotta continued to sing in her squawking soprano voice. Despite the overly dramatic prima donna, though, Christine became entranced with the music, often pretending that she was a part of the story. She watched as the ballerinas came out in revealing outfits and twirled around, apparently acting as slave girls. Then the soldiers appeared and sang the chorus again, their voices filling the room with a pleasant lower range. What she would not give to be up there with them, even if only as a chorus girl.

Just as she was starting to finally get an idea of what the opera was about, the conductor announced rehearsals to be over. Sighing, Christine watched as the singers and dancers filtered off the stage, mumbling to each other about this and that. No one seemed to notice the timid brunette sitting alone in the middle of the room. All of the lights turned off around her except for a few stage lamps. In the dark silence, she wondered when Raoul would return and what she should do until that time. Getting up from her seat, she slowly sauntered over to the stage, her foot steps echoing in the empty room.

"What would it be like up here?" she wondered, wiping the smooth floor softly with her hand. She looked to see if anyone was watching before lifting herself up onto the stage. Looking down into the empty rows, Christine imagined herself to be the lead singer. Perhaps if she sung quietly, no one would ever hear her. Taking in a deep breath, she picked up a stray piece of music that Carlotta had dropped. The title of the song was "Think of Me." Though it appeared to be a difficult piece with high notes, Christine thought she could sight read it if she concentrated. She cleared her throat.

_Think of me, think of fondly when we've said goodbye. Remember me, once in a while.._ She sang through it as best she could, arms limply at her sides. Though it sounded slightly off key, she felt some pride at being able to get her voice high enough to reach all of the notes. She knew if she had some professional training she could improve greatly. As Christine approached the end of the song, though, a sudden feeling of apprehension swept over her. She felt as though she were being watched. Her voice tapered off, and she looked around the dark auditorium.

"Hello?" she began meekly. "Is anyone there?" Silence was her only response. "My mind is playing with me," she told herself. "I really must grow up." She began to finish the song, for she really hated to leave such a beautiful piece uncompleted.

_Ooooooof Meeeee ..._ She sang the last words with all her soul and hit the notes almost perfectly! Pride filled her pounding heart as she stood there trying to catch her breath. It was at that moment when Christine heard it. Applause. The sound came from only a single set of hands, yet echoed from above and all throughout the auditorium. Christine froze and frantically looked around. At first she saw nothing, but then she made out a flicker of white against one of the dark opera boxes. Squinting, she could also make out the outline of a person.

"Who is up there?" she called out nervously. Though she was slightly afraid, a thrill rushed through her at the thought of being watched in her small moment of glory. Her heart was throbbing even faster than it did when she was performing at the conservatory. The figure above froze, as if debating whether to make its presence known. "Please, tell me who is up there."

"Christine!" a voice behind her caused her to turn around. "What on earth are you doing here in the dark, and who are you talking to?" Raoul asked.

"I...I was just looking at the stage," she replied. "I thought I saw...," she looked up to the box and saw that the patch of white had vanished. "Never mind."

Raoul approached her curiously. "You look like you have seen a ghost. After the conversation I have just had with the managers, I would not be surprised if you did." Raoul sighed, and Christine saw that he looked tired.

"I would appreciate it, Christine, if you would not stay in dark areas by yourself. The office is right upstairs, and you can wait for me there the next time you find yourself alone. I am beginning to wonder if my patronage here is such a good idea."

"Why," gasped Christine. "I adore it here!"

"Oh, it is not important. They all seem to believe there is some kind of ghost haunting the opera house. Imagine two grown men actually paying twenty thousand francs to a ghost!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Christine in confusion.

"Never mind that. It is really not important. Let's just get you back home." He lead her out of the building by her ice cold hand. Christine looked back several times to catch a glimpse of her admirer. She didn't see him staring down at her from high above.


	3. Perfection Out of Grasp

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It really made my night! I'm going to try to get chapters up fairly quickly, but sometimes writer's block does kick in. My New Year's resolution, though, is to not leave the story unfinished...no matter how bad it gets :) **

**This chapter was a bit tricky, as I tried to develop you-know-who. Please tell me if he is out of character because it's important to me to get him right. Here it goes...**

He had been watching her since she had first entered the Opera. As always, he had been observing the rehearsals from box five, wondering if there was any hope of ever removing La Carlotta from the stage. Of course, he really knew of no one who could replace her. "Perhaps no opera is better than hearing this catastrophe, though," he had mused to himself as he eyed the scenery conveniently hanging over the prima donna's head. Then that young girl, Christine had been her name, had walked in with her fiancé, the new patron of the Opera House.

Though he had found her visually appealing with her long brown curls and creamy skin, he had at first dismissed her as another strutting aristocrat who knew little of the arts. She and her well-dressed suitor would mean nothing more than an excuse to demand that the managers increase his salary. It was only after the lights went out that he truly saw Christine Daae for the first time.

He had been about ready to leave after the usual disaster of a rehearsal, when he observed her walking over to the stage in the dark. Wondering what exactly she was about to do, he had sat back down. She seemed more timid than the other noble women he had encountered, and yet she was now boldly climbing upon the stage. Christine had bent down and picked up a sheet of music off of the ground. It was an aria from _Hannibal_ that Carlotta had just vocally destroyed, and the young girl attempted to sing it.

"This should be amusing," he thought, leaning back with his arms folded as she wobbled through the first words of the song. As she continued, though, her voice became more confident. Though she occasionally missed a note or went off pitch, Christine got through the piece almost perfectly in her one try. But it wasn't her technique that had stunned her admirer from above. It was her clear, sweet soprano voice that entranced him so. She had sung like he imagined an angel would, the melody sweeping around him in warm waves of sound. Nothing had ever seemed quite so close to perfection.

When she was finished, he had started applauding without even realizing it. The girl had been frightened, but he could also tell she was pleased that someone had heard. She had called directly out to him, most likely seeing the dim light reflecting off of his mask, but he didn't dare respond. Perhaps he could have shouted, "It is the Opera Ghost!" or "Behold! The Angel of Death!", but he thought that would have sounded seemingly ridiculous. Then the damn Vicomte had returned and dragged her off! He had thought of nothing but her the rest of the evening.

"With expert instruction, she could be truly amazing. Obviously she has had some novice training, but a voice like that can only come naturally. What a tragedy it is that her voice should be heard by an empty room while that squawking monstrosity of a prima donna is worshiped by the whole city! It is hopeless, though. Her husband would never allow her...but wait... he is only her fiancé now. Perhaps...no...that is ridiculous." He continued the argument with himself the rest of the night and was not even able to concentrate on his own musical masterpiece.

He wondered why he even cared, rubbing his hand through his dark hair and over his mask. She was just a timid girl with a pleasant voice. Hearing a dog bark would sound pleasing after listening to Carlotta day after day. He touched a key on his organ, letting it ring into the air, before answering his own question. "I care because I have worked to mold this Opera House into a domain of perfection. In its current state, it is nothing more than another social gathering for a bunch of ignorant aristocrats. If perfection means I must step outside certain boundaries, then that is what I will do." He gave the organ a harder pound, this time out of frustration.

Despite his resolve, he knew that it would be very difficult to ever hear Mademoiselle Daae's voice again. She lived outside the bounds of his control. In the end, Christine's dark admirer compromised between forgetting about her all together and demanding her return by writing a new letter to the managers.

Dear Monsieurs,

You shall do everything within your power to ensure that Mademoiselle Daae feels most comfortable in the Opera House. If she is offended in any way or denied any request, my salary will rise dramatically. I trust, though, that you will pay it considering you have a wealthy new patron.

Humbly yours,

O.G.

When Firmin found the note at his desk the next morning, he couldn't help but smile. He had still been irked at the Vicomte's refusal to take the ghost seriously. The notes, the stage mishaps, the accidents...all of them the Vicomte had dismissed as pranks. Perhaps now he could get the skeptical young man to believe in the ghost, as the phantom had obviously taken an interest in his fiancée. Nothing, after all, brought a man to quicker action than his woman's honor.


	4. The Dress Rehearsal

**Hello and thanks for the great reviews! Well, these next several chapters have driven me insane as I've tried to make everything come together smoothly. Some of it will be all of the stuff you have seen before in the original story and in other fics, and some of it will be new. This chapter is more of a means to get to chapter five, so bear with it and don't abandon me. :)**

Try as she might, Christine could not forget about her first visit to the Opera House. It was so exhilarating to be on the stage...to sing with all of her heart. Then there was that figure in the box above. Though he ( she guessed it had been a man) had been far away, she had sensed his presence near her before she had even seen him. Who was he, and why was he watching her? Many idle hours had allowed her to ponder these questions. Raoul had been away on business over the past few days, and her classes at the conservatory were on a hiatus for the week. She had tried to spend time with some of her friends, knowing it would be months when she would never see them again, but her mind was elsewhere.

"Thinking of your charming fiancé again," teased her closest friend Annette when Christine had drifted off into a daydream again. "I'm sure he is quite the kisser," she said dramatically batting her eyes.

Christine blushed and nodded. She had actually been thinking of that night at the Opera House, but was reluctant to tell anyone of it.

"Oh Christine. You are the luckiest woman here." Annette gave her a tight hug.

"I suppose I am," replied Christine sighing. She got up and looked at the clock. Anticipation filled her heart. Raoul had said that if he arrived back early enough that day he would take her to see the dress rehearsal for _Hannibal_. "Please be home soon," she silently begged. Luck was on Christine's side that afternoon, for five minutes later there was a knock at her door. She rushed over to open it and found one of the maids of the conservatory.

"Mademoiselle Daae?" she enquired.

"Yes," replied Christine.

"There's a young man downstairs to see you."

"Thank you so much!" Christine replied rushing out of the room and down the stairs, not caring how unladylike she seemed.

Raoul was waiting at the bottom. "Well, my dear," he said as she rushed down. "I'm glad you're happy to see me." They hugged.

"Oh, Raoul. I'm always excited to see you," she replied, feeling slightly guilty. "You're home fairly early..."

"Yes, and I am exhausted to say the least. But I did tell you we would see the dress rehearsal and I shall keep to my word." He looked as if he hoped that Christine would tell him that it was unnecessary to go tonight. Though she knew that Raoul was tired, however, Christine was far too excited to think about anything but the opera.

"Thank you so much, Raoul. I shall get ready." She turned to go back upstairs. Raoul sighed. He knew she liked the Opera House, but he didn't realize that she liked it this much. What made her want to return so badly? Well, perhaps after they were married Christine would calm down some.

* * *

Christine had expected Raoul and her to be the only ones at the Opera House that evening aside from the performers. To her dismay, many of the wealthy aristocrats who had donated large sums of money were arriving. "I guess I won't be sneaking up onto the stage tonight," she smiled sadly to herself. Looking upwards to the sky, Christine noticed that dark clouds had begun to form. Flashes of lightning could be seen in the distance against the dimming sky. Raoul noticed them too. 

"I do hope it doesn't storm. It will be hell trying to get you back home in the rain and wind," he said rather harshly.

Christine was taken aback by his tone. She felt guilty at insisting he bring her but was still determined to enjoy the night. They went inside and sat down. Raoul glanced around for people that he knew from business or social events but saw no one. Christine also looked around, finally fixing her eyes on the box that had held the figure of before. It was empty. Oddly empty, actually. All the other boxes around it had people in them. "What are you looking at, dear?" asked Raoul.

Christine hesitated before replying. "That box...box five. It's empty. We should have asked for it."

"I did," replied Raoul with a tone of irritation. "It's been...reserved by the managers...for the ghost."

"Oh really, Raoul. Don't tease me. What is really wrong with the box?"

"I wish that I were teasing." He sighed. "Christine...I.." He was interrupted by a crash of thunder that shook the Opera House. The sound of rain could be heard spilling onto the roof top, and the wind rattled the glass windows. Many of the audience members gasped. Monsieur Firmin approached the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention. It seems a storm has come in. Before the roads become impassible, we have decided that it is best to cancel tonight's dress rehearsal. We will reschedule for another night. I am extremely sorry. Thank you for your patience." The audience began to rush out of the Opera House and into the rain, using the flashes of lightning to find their way in the dark. Many of the lamps had been blown out by the wind. Raoul and Christine followed close behind as Raoul searched for his horse and carriage. He finally found his driver, Marius, passed out on the sidewalk with no carriage in sight.

"Marius! Marius! Wake up! Where are my horses? What are you doing, you fool?!" yelled Raoul into the wind. Thunder boomed, causing Christine to jump. The rain soaked her brown curls, and her dress clung to her skin.

Marius stirred and sat up."I'm sorry, Monsieur. A thief came up from behind me! He grabbed the horse and carriage... knocked me out cold. I'm sorry."

Raoul looked around frantically. It would be impossible to get another carriage in a night like this. "Come Christine. We must go back inside." He led her in and looked for one of the managers. He found Andre standing near the stage, nervously watching the rattling windows.

"Monsieur Andre!" he called out. "Stay here Christine." He walked quickly over as Christine stood by herself and watched the people leave. She felt slightly giddy at the whole event, and a part of her hoped to remain there for a while. From a distance she could tell that Raoul was upset by something. He had an irritated scowl on his face and was waving his hand at her. Finally, with a look of defeat, Raoul returned.

"Christine, it appears we are stuck here for the night. I am going to help the managers secure the opera house exterior, as the wind is beginning to tear some of the sidings off. Though I am not pleased with this, it appears you will have to sleep here tonight. Madame Giry, the ballet instructor, will take you to a spare dressing room that contains a cot for you to sleep on. Please do not leave your room, for you will find people of the house are not quite as...refined as you and I are to say the least. I shall come for you in the morning and we shall return. My God, I don't know if things could have gotten much worse."

Christine stood their trying to maintain a look of dismay. Inside, though, she felt a thrill rush through her. She was going to stay the night in the Opera House. What a perfect night for a storm!


	5. Wisdom from a Ballerina

**Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing. You guys keep me going. Chapters five and six were meant to be one chapter, but it wasn't uploading well so I split it up. These chapters have many of the elements of the original story. Though you've heard it hundreds of times, I hope this version has its own flavor and that you enjoy it. **

Christine slowly followed Madame Giry down the long corridor, glancing curiously into each open room. She felt slightly uneasy in the older woman's presence, perhaps because Madame Giry seemed so stern and devoid of humor. Her hair was drawn into a tight bun, and she wore a plain grey dress that contrasted with the bright colors of the rest of the opera house. One would not want to displease her.

Though uncomfortable, Christine was also entranced as she watched the dancers scuttle about in their costumes and stage make- up. They seemed tired yet bright-eyed, as if their life was a never-ending game of make believe. The dancers kept an eye on Christine as well. Some just glanced over with curiosity, while others were slightly envious of her situation, referring to her as the _Vicomte's _fiance. One blonde young lady in a ballet costume approached them.

Madame Giry looked up. "Christine, this is my daughter Meg. She is situated in a dressing room near your's and will assist you should you need anything."

Meg smiled and nodded at Christine before turning to her mother. "You're not going to put her in the room on the end, are you?" she asked softly.

Madame Giry whispered back sharply. "Do not start that nonsense, Meg. That room is perfectly fine." She then turned to Christine again. " Please do not wander far from your room. The Opera House is extremely easy to get lost in. Do enjoy your stay here, though. Meg, you may take Christine the rest of the way." Madame Giry shot Meg a no-nonsense look before turning back the other way.

"It's nice to meet you," Christine began cautiously. "You must love being here."

Meg smiled. "It's nice to meet you as well. I wouldn't say that I love it here, but it can be exciting. Oh, here is your room." She strode up to a small door and cautiously opened it. Lighting a lamp, she walked inside, and Christine followed suit. She smiled at the quaint room. It didn't look like it had been used for quite some time. A cot stood in the right corner, perfectly made up with fleece blankets and pillows. On one wall, there stood an oak wood bureau with three drawers and a cushioned chair. Finally, an enormous mirror stood on the left wall. It seemed too extravagant for the tiny room. Christine looked at her reflection.

"Oh, dear. I look like a mess," she said staring down at her soaked dress and wet hair. She shivered in her wet clothing.

"Don't worry," replied Meg. "There is an extra nightgown in the top drawer, I believe. Can I get you anything else?"

"I don't think so, Meg. I wouldn't mind some company. Though if you have to go, that's fine..." Christine suddenly didn't want to be alone in the confined room. There was something eerie and isolating about it, especially with the noises of the storm outside.

Meg shifted nervously. "No, I can stay for a while." Though the room made her nervous as well, Meg did want to know more about Christine. Surely someone engaged to a Vicomte would have interesting stories to tell. The ghost usually only came out after the lights were out anyway.

"So Christine...do you like coming here?"

"I adore coming here. I'm making Raoul crazy with my constant pleas to attend all of the shows. When I was younger, I used to dream of singing in a place like this." A far off look formed in Christine's soft brown eyes.

"Really?" replied Meg. "Mother said you were from the conservatory. Can you sing well?"

Christine sighed, coming back to reality. "I can sing, but not as well as I would like to. Not nearly well enough to be on stage."

Meg smiled. "Well, at least you don't have to worry about that. You're going to be married soon and living in an enormous house with the Vicomte. Everyone is extremely envious of you."

Perhaps it was the fact that the little room seemed to keep secrets well, or perhaps Christine thought that a ballet dancer would be able to understand her, but she suddenly had to tell someone what was in her heart. "They shouldn't be envious of me, Meg. I do love Raoul. He is strong, secure, and generous, and I am grateful to have him as my fiancé. But I have dreamed of singing for so long. It's my father's fault, I guess. He used to tell me I would be a famous prima donna one day. There was this fairy tale he told me about an Angel of Music that came to guide little girls' voices to greatness. My father said he would send the angel to me after his death. And Meg, up until several years ago, I believed it to be true. Isn't that silly?"

"No, Christine. It's not silly. It's sweet. But Christine...think of your future. You'll be with your love inside a huge mansion and be able to afford whatever you desire. I'm sure you'll have many beautiful children. If I found a husband half as wonderful as you did, I'd leave in a heartbeat. I'm sick of constant rehearsals and of my mother scolding me as if I were a child."

Christine nodded, suddenly feeling slightly ridiculous. A ballerina was giving a future Vicomtess words of wisdom. How was she ever going to become a respected member of society?

Meg slowly got up off of the bed, not having expected the conversation to take on such a serious tone. "I need to go now, Christine. It's getting late."

"It was nice talking to you, Meg. I'm sorry for telling you all of that, but I've never met someone from the stage before."

"It was nice talking to you, too, Christine." Meg started to leave, but a mischievous smile formed on her face. Perhaps she could lighten things up just a bit before she left. "Oh, and Christine?"

"Yes?"

"They say that the ghost loves this room! Watch out!" Meg quickly exclaimed before racing out.

Christine shook her head and smiled. She really needed to find out more about this ghost. Looking around the room, Christine realized she was no longer as excited as before. Spending the night alone in a little room was not what she had imagined a night at the Opera House would be like. The conversation with Meg had also made her feel somewhat melancholy. If someone from the stage could not understand her, then who could?

"After tonight,' Christine told herself. "I will stop this nonsense." She turned towards the mirror and looked directly into it. Speaking to herself aloud, Christine made a vow. "I will no longer hold onto my childish dreams of singing. I will become the proper and respectable wife of a Vicomte, with no other aspirations. Finally, I will stop constantly begging Raoul to bring me here. He has given me so much, and I have been ungrateful. If it weren't for me, we wouldn't be in this debacle tonight." She firmly nodded and stared at her reflection. Though her tone was resolved, the face that looked back at her seemed meek and afraid. Sighing, she left the mirror and went to retrieve the nightgown from the drawer.


	6. Sleep My Child

**Disclaimer: I do not own the song "All Through the Night". **

Slowly, Christine slipped on the soft, cotton gown. Pulling it tightly around her body, she blew out the lamp, climbed under the covers, and closed her eyes. Sleep didn't come, though. The howling of the wind outside and the storm of thoughts inside her head kept Christine wide awake. She tossed and turned for a while before sitting up. A tension engulfed the room, making her feel nervous and restless. Perhaps, just this last time, she could turn to her past for comfort. It would be a kind of goodbye to her childhood...to her father. One more time, she would sing herself to sleep, the same song her father had sung when she was small. Closing her eyes to prevent a stray tear from falling, Christine began.

_Sleep my child and peace attend thee_

_All through the night_

_Guardian angels God will send thee_

_All through the night_....

Her voice, at first soft and alone, seemed to blend with another, becoming fuller and more complete. The song took on a beautiful harmony that sounded almost like two voices singing instead of one. It took Christine several verses before she realized that she really was in a duet. Someone was singing with her! Christine stopped and clutched her head, believing that her ears were deceiving her. She must be more tired than she had thought! As she started the song again, the soft, unearthly voice began again, too. This time, though, Christine continued the song.

_Love, to thee my thoughts are turning_

_All through the night_

_All for thee my heart is yearning,_

_All through the night_

Her thoughts of before faded away as she concentrated on her voice. All that mattered was not spoiling the perfect blend of song. A rare excitement filled her, and she felt nearly devastated as the melody ended.

_Though sad fate our lives may sever_

_Parting will not last forever,_

_There's a hope that leaves me never,_

_All through the night_.

Silence.

"Hello," Christine whispered quietly in the dark. "Papa?" She didn't know why she said the last part, but it somehow seemed appropriate. Her only response was the sound of her own breath.

"Oh, father," she cried in frustration. " Stop haunting me. Let me live my new life in peace!" She wailed into her hands, almost hoping that someone would hear her and come in.

"Hush!" The voice rang out into the room, half a whisper and half a shout.

Christine froze. Was her mind playing tricks again? "Hello?" she asked into the empty room. Somewhat to her relief, she received an answer.

"Stop wailing or you shall wake the whole Opera House. I am here. Calm yourself." The voice was powerful...threatening yet beautiful. It filled the entire room, beckoning her from every corner.

"Who...who are you?"she asked somewhat fearfully. There was a moment of silence.

"I am your Angel of Music. Your father has sent me to guide your voice."

Christine was quiet for a second, pondering the enormity of it all. Reason began to set in. "Meg?" Christine began with a tone of cautious suspicion. "Are you doing this somehow? Please stop. It's really not funny!" Who else could know about the Angel of Music?

"You doubt my presence, Christine Daae?" The voice grew louder and more threatening. " After I have come to lead your voice to greatness, you dare doubt me!?"

"There...there is no such thing as an Angel of Music," she said shakily, laying her feet on the cold, hard floor. "And even if there were, I am too old to be visited.. Tell me who you are, or I'll scream for help." She got out of bed and went to open the door, expecting Meg or some of the other ballet girls to be on the other side. Shaking the knob, Christine found the door to be locked. She was trapped in the room! Her heart pounded in panic.

The voice seemed to sense her terror and became soft again. "Do you wish me to leave, Christine? You are the one who called to me. When you sung on the stage of the Opera House that night, you called to me. You proved yourself worthy of my guidance. Only then could I come to you."

Christine froze, partially losing herself in the hypnotic voice. Meg couldn't have known about her night on the stage. Her eyes went wide with both hope and fear."Was it you who applauded that night? Who I saw in the box above?"

"Yes, Christine. It was I. You saw the white light reflecting off of my wing from below. Your voice graced my ears, child, and I wish to take it to the highest levels. If you do not wish for my help, though, I shall find a more grateful being."

"Forgive me! Please don't go. I just...if you are an angel, how can you possibly help me now. If I were not engaged, perhaps I would be worth your valuable time. There is no hope for me now, though." Christine hadn't fully accepted that an actual angel was finally speaking to her, but the voice was so soothing and ethereal, that she couldn't bear for it to leave. And how did it know so much about her?! Perhaps, if not an angel, there was at least someone out there who understood her feelings.

"I will take care of things, Christine." The voice floated around her comfortingly "You must trust me to guide you. You must also listen to me. In the next few days, you will be offered music lessons by the Opera House twice a week. Accept them graciously, and I will take care of the rest."

"But Raoul would never...." began Christine.

"Did I not tell you I would take care of _everything_, child?" The voice was still soft, yet more menacing, daring her to argue with it.

"You did...Angel. Thank you."

"You're welcome Mademoiselle. I must go now. Please do not tell anyone of this conversation, or you shall never hear from me again." Echoing, the voice tapered off into the dark.

Christine waited for it to say something more, but in her heart she could tell it was gone. Laying there, she wondered if the whole thing had been real. Had a voice come into her room and offered to guide her to greatness? And if someone was there, was it really an Angel, or was she the victim of a cruel joke? Just as she had sworn off her past, it had returned again to haunt her. Christine drifted off into a restless and dreamless sleep.


	7. Awaiting the Vicomte's Decision

**Hello all! I'll be honest and say this isn't the most exciting chapter of the story, but it is necessary. Get through this one and things will start to pick up more. If I'm lying you can punjab me!**

"Andre! Andre, get in here now!" Firmin yelled as he paced back and forth in his office, pausing every few seconds to stare down at the note in his hand. Andre rushed into the room with a look of irritation on his face.

"What on earth is the matter? We're in the middle of negotiating a contract to fix the storm damage. Can this not wait?" He rubbed his temples and waited for an explanation. Neither man had gotten much sleep the night before, and both were in foul moods that morning.

"I've just received another letter from our friend, O. G. Read it and see what you can make of it."

Andre rolled his eyes and read the letter aloud.

Greetings Monsieurs,

A shame that the dress rehearsal had to be canceled on account of the storm. I'm sure the delaying of _Hannibal_, not to mention the expensive repairs on my Opera House, will be setting you back greatly financially. While I was going to demand an increase in my salary, your current state has led me to take pity upon you. Instead you will pay me in another way. Upon again seeing the Vicomte and Mademoiselle Daae, you shall offer the young lady voice lessons two days a week with an instructor of your choosing. All shall be done to ensure that she receives these lessons, including the offering of transportation to the Opera House. I can assure you that she desires these lessons and will accept them gratefully. If you do not accept this offer, not only shall my salary be doubled, but you shall find yourselves in greater debt. Broken scenery and disappearing prima donnas can be very expensive to replace.

Your friend,

O.G.

Andre looked up questioningly. "This is the second letter we've received with references to the Vicomte's fiancé. Is it possible that she could know something about this?"

"I have been wondering the same thing, but I don't see how. She's only been to the Opera House twice. O. G., from what I understand, has been around for quite a while. Perhaps our ghost simply has taken a fondness to the young woman. Who wouldn't take a fondness to that pretty face?" Firmin smirked.

"Well, Monsieur, what do you think we should do? We certainly could use the extra money at the moment. God forbid there be any more accidents, or we really are going to start losing workers. La Carlotta has threatened to walk out twice in the past month. On the other hand, I'm tired of being controlled by this so-called ghost. This nonsense has to end some time."

Firmin sighed. "Yes, this nonsense does have to end. Seeing how we're already in enormous debt, though, I don't think now is the time to take a stand. I see no harm in offering the girl singing lessons if it will get this accursed phantom off of our backs for a while. I'll find the least expensive teacher we have. Do you think the Vicomte will let her do it, though? He seems like he would be against it, and we sure as hell can't afford to lose his patronage."

Andre smiled slyly. "I think we can convince him. There is always a way to get these brash young aristocrats to agree to anything."

"And what way would that be, Monsieur?"

"Play to his ego, of course. Convince him that having a wife with such training will make him the envy of all others." The two gentlemen continued to eagerly plan. One might have said that they enjoyed the challenge of manipulating the Vicomte.

From a shadow nearby, the writer of the letter listened carefully to the discussion inside the office. He knew that he could get those two fools to comply. Money always had a way of getting the minds of greedy men working. Now the only thing standing in his way was the boy.

Over the next few days, he impatiently waited for the Vicomte's return, pacing back and forth in the solitude of his underground home. He stopped only to watch a rehearsal or jot down a few notes of music. Every so often he would curse himself for ever coming up with the idea....for ever talking to the girl. If he had kept quiet and gone with his original plan, he wouldn't be left in this precarious situation. Never before had anyone made him act so rashly!

At first he had only meant to watch her that night, to see if she was worth his time. She had the voice, yes, but to succeed, she needed to desire perfection. Her temperament had to be humble so that she would willingly obey him, not like Carlotta who strutted around the stage like a queen. She also needed charisma, for he didn't want a dull-eyed chorus girl either.

He had seen her arrive that night, as the storm built up in the sky. Though at first furious over the cancellation of the dress rehearsal, he realized that the chaotic situation outside could prove to be advantageous. He would be able to quickly swipe the Vicomte's carriage without a soul noticing. That would strand the couple for at least several hours, giving him time to study the girl, perhaps find out more about her history. Luck had taken its tole, though, when she had been forced to remain for the night. Naturally she slept in the room on the end, for it was the only one available. None of the other girls would dare stay in it. Unbeknownst to Christine, the ballerinas referred to it as _the haunted room_.

When Christine first entered with the Giry child, she had seemed very timid and unsure, barely able to hold up her own end of the conversation. "Perhaps she does not have the energy for the stage," he had thought wearily. Christine had then looked at herself in the enormous mirror, her wet clothes clinging tightly to the frame of her small body. Glistening beads of water were strung throughout her curls, and a chill ran through him the moment she stared directly at him with her shy brown eyes. As if on cue, Christine had shivered.

It was the girl's words, though, that had finalized his decision that night. She had said she dreamt of singing on stage since she was a child. That, in so many words, her life as of now did not make her happy. As she talked of her hopes of the past, he could sense some of the fire that he had seen when she sang on stage that one night.

The worst part of the evening had come when Christine had looked directly into the mirror, straight into his eyes, and promised to abandon singing. Had she not looked so unsure of herself, he might have grabbed her tiny throat right then and forced her to take back the words. How dare she show such insolence in his Opera House!? As she climbed into bed, he had stood there wondering how to ensure that Christine's timid vow would not become a reality. Should he become the infamous Ghost and scare her into singing? No, she would scream. If she managed to escape, she would never return. His thoughts were interrupted by Christine's soft, heavenly voice as she attempted to sing herself to sleep. He could not lose that voice.

Softly, he joined her in the song. He had heard the ballet girls sing it on occasion, and though it wasn't really a favorite of his, any song that came out of Christine's mouth sounded _nearly_ perfect to him. Only he could make it perfect. As he harmonized with her, a plan began to form in the back of his mind. She had spoken of an Angel of Music to Meg, hadn't she? Perhaps, if he acted just right, he could get her to believe that he was the angel. Perhaps...

His adeptness at throwing the booming voice that he so often used to frighten the ballet girls was perfect for the role of an all-powerful angel. Oh, she was skeptical at first. Luckily he had triggered the door to lock from the inside so that she couldn't run away in hysterics. In the end, though, he had won. He had awoken her thirst for song. As she was about to lose all hope, he had restored it. She was now no doubt waiting to see if the promises of her Angel would be fulfilled.

Now here he stood with the entire fate of his Opera House in the hands of two inept managers and a cocky Vicomte. Usually completely in control of the events around him, the uncertainty of the situation made him unusually nervous. He despised his powerlessness. If the Vicomte said no to the lessons, he knew that he would have to forget about Mademoiselle Daae. She would disappear from the Opera House knowing firmly that angels on earth did not exist, and he would be left empty handed.

If all did go well, though, he knew that he would possess a powerful hold over the girl. She would firmly believe him to be her angel, for who else could have such control over her life? With her voice and his guidance, who knew what he could achieve? These thoughts, along with other notions that he would not dare admit to himself, made him more secure in his decision to speak to Christine that stormy night.

On Friday, the Vicomte returned with Christine by his side. Raoul walked upstairs to the office, leaving Christine on a sofa outside of the door. Her eyes were dim with disappointment as she sat there staring down at her hands. She was beginning to be sure that the one night had been a dream. From nearby, her Angel observed her grave face and grimaced. "If those two fail," he thought, turning his attention to the managers, "there will be hell to pay."

"Good day, Monsieurs," began Raoul, once inside the office. "I assume you called me to discuss the reparations to the Opera House. Well, I have looked at the contracts and see no problems with the financing. I can easily make the down payment. The rest should be taken care of as the new operas begin." Andre jumped in quickly.

"We are extremely gracious for your generosity sir. Extremely gracious." He shifted nervously in his chair and looked over at his partner for help.

"Yes," piped in Firmin. "You've done so much for us these last few days that we feel the need to repay you in some way."

"Don't be ridiculous," replied Raoul proudly. "I am a patron, and it is my duty to help out in times of crisis."

"Oh no," argued Firmin. "We really must do something after requesting so much of you already. And if not for you, then for your...fiancé perhaps?"

Raoul gave him a puzzled look. "Christine? What could you do for her?"

Andre cleared his throat. "Well, you said yourself that she was quite the singer. Why not allow us to give her free voice lessons here twice a week, transportation provided of course. She could become truly wonderful."

The Vicomte shot him a look of contempt and confusion. "What good would voice lessons do Christine? We're getting married in six months, and Christine will be abandoning her public singing after that. Thank you anyhow, though."

The tension around the room reached a peak.

Firmin and Andre exchanged looks of panic. "But Monsieur," chimed in Andre. "Who said anything about singing in public? Imagine having a wife who can sing at galas, socials, and even at church. She'll be the envy of everyone. If you tell them that she learned to sing at the great Opera House, perhaps it will bring in more business." The two men waited for the Vicomte's response, each quickly trying to come up with more ideas to persuade him.

Raoul sat there, pondering the situation. He would like to have something to tell people about his wife. Lessons from the famous Opera House would certainly be a good topic for social discussion. It would be for less than six months and would keep her occupied while he went about his business. Besides, he was extremely tired of Christine's constant begging to come to the Opera House, and now he wouldn't have to bring her. Perhaps, as long as she firmly understood that it was temporary, the lessons would have many advantages.

"Well, gentlemen. You seem to have convinced me, and I know Christine would enjoy them. I do need some time alone these next few months, and this will keep her mind focused on something while I'm gone. As long as you provide transportation, then I accept your offer."

Firmin and Andre breathed out long sighs of relief. The Vicomte shook their hands and left the room, wondering if he had made the right decision. Christine looked up somberly as he came out. From a distance, _he_ could see Raoul talking softly into her ear. She nodded at her fiance's words, her eyes growing wide as a smile of pure delight formed on her lips. Throwing her arms around Raoul's neck, she looked up to the ceiling and mouthed the words "Thank you."

From his corner, her Angel smiled. "You're welcome, Mademoiselle," he said to himself. "Now please do not disappoint me."


	8. The First Lesson

**You guys have been so wonderful with your reviews! Every time I get one it goes to my e-mail, and my MSN messenger thingy pops up. Makes my day! This short chapter will pretty much speak for itself, so enjoy!**

Bouncing up and down in the carriage, Christine gazed dazedly out into the city. Ever since Raoul had told her that he was giving her singing lessons at the Opera House as another wedding gift, she had lived in an endless daydream. After all of these years of false hopes, her Angel had come to guide her voice. Now she was on her way to her first lesson, and though she did not know exactly what lay ahead, she had begun to put her trust back into the higher powers.

Waking up after that night at the Opera House, Christine had been sure that the entire incident was a dream. Her fears were confirmed as the week went by without another word from the Angel. When the promise had been fulfilled that Friday, though, Christine began to truly believe. No mortal could have that kind of power.

Occasionally a stray doubt still passed through her mind. Christine had experienced so many disappointments in life that blind faith could never really be an option. Still, her expectations were higher than they had been in years, and she attempted to leave all her worries behind as she left the carriage and entered the Opera House.

Once inside, she was greeted by a relieved Monsieur Andre.

"Greetings, Mademoiselle Daae. I was afraid you weren't going to make it."

"Yes, I was a little late coming out this afternoon. I'm sorry." She looked at the ground nervously.

"Well, there is no harm done I guess. Come with me to the back, Mademoiselle, and I will introduce you to your instructor, Monsieur Cheever." Christine followed him to a rear hall of the opera house and into a small room. Inside was a grand piano, a bench, and several storage cabinets. The room also had an elaborate array of water ducts, vents, and other structures etched along the floors and ceilings. Every sound seemed to echo off of them. In the middle of the room was a plump, bald-headed man, whom Christine took to be her new instructor.

"Monsieur Cheever," began Andre, "allow me to introduce you to your pupil, Christine Daae."

Monsieur Cheever smiled and somewhat overly-eagerly reached for Christine's hand. "A pleasure, Mademoiselle. I am _extremely_ looking forward to teaching you to sing." His voice was nasally and unpleasant. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow. Christine shifted uneasily as he kissed her hand, her daydreams of earlier beginning to dissipate.

"I'll leave you to your lesson," said Andre walking briskly out of the room. He felt relieved that everything was resolved and was completely ignorant of Christine's situation.

"Well, Mademoiselle, just how _experienced_ are you at singing?" asked Monsieur Cheever, slowly approaching Christine with a leering look in his eyes. She suddenly had the urge to run, her renewed faith in her Angel the only thing keeping her planted.

"I...I've been at the conservatory for several years and have had small roles there," she choked out.

"I see," he replied, rubbing his chin. " Let me go get some intermediate level material from the music library. Then, my dear, we shall begin your lesson." He exited the room, not seeing Christine's relieved face as he left.

Monsieur Cheever walked down the hall smirking and with music lessons as the last thing on his mind. It was indeed very rare he was asked to give a private lesson, despite having the lowest rates in the city. As he approached the library, the music teacher suddenly sensed that he was not alone. He stopped and nervously glanced around. Seeing no one, Monsieur Cheever shrugged and continued down the corridor. Suddenly he felt something fall around his thick neck. Before he could glance down, it tightened, nearly blocking off all airways. The instructor choked and gasped, flailing his arms in panic as he tried to get away. Each tug only made the noose tighter, though. A soft yet deadly whisper crept into his left ear.

"Hello, Monsieur," it said menacingly. "Have you found a new student to _teach_? On behalf of Mademoiselle Daae, I will tell you that she no longer requires your services. Should anyone ask, you are still tutoring her twice a week. If these orders aren't followed, Monsieur, I guarantee there will be a vacancy in the music department. Do I make myself clear?"

Monsieur Cheever nodded, still gasping for air. The noose was not removed.

"Oh, and Monsieur? It would also be in your best interest to abandon private lessons, " the voice rasped. With that, the grip was released, and the man fell to his knees. He looked around the empty hall, choking for air. When he had finally caught his breath, Monsieur Cheever scrambled out the nearest exit, never looking back.

Christine was still waiting in the empty room, somewhat relieved that her new teacher was taking so long to return. This couldn't be her Angel's plan, could it? Just as she was beginning to feel ill over the entire incident, a sudden calm came over her. She knew her Angel of Music was near.

"Christine..." came the ethereal voice from above. "Are you ready for your lesson?" It echoed over the pipes and the ceiling, enveloping the entire room.

"Oh, Angel!" exclaimed Christine in utter relief. "I'm so happy that you are going to be the one to teach me! I thought I was to be left with that awful man!"

"Now Christine, have I given you reason to not trust me? Do you really think I would leave you in his hands? He was only necessary so that others do not find out that an _Angel_ is giving you lessons. You shall never see him again."

"I'm sorry, Angel. There is still so much doubt in me, though." She allowed herself to be hypnotized by his voice as all her fears drifting away to blissful naivety.

"Relinquish all doubt, child, for you will be given what you have always desired. Now, let us begin. On the cabinet behind you, you will find a song. Begin by singing me the first few lines." She walked over and picked up the sheets of music. It was a French aria from one of the operas that had been shown the year before. Christine took in a deep breath and started, her voice shaking.

He stopped her after the first few lines. "First of all, child, you must calm down, or your voice will never relax. Secondly, your timbre is divine and your technique is decent, but your pitch and range need much work. Forget all that you have learned at the conservatory for today and listen to only what I tell you."

She nodded in obedience, still completely entranced.

All afternoon, Christine worked harder than she ever had before. He forced her to go beyond all of her own expectations, to put her entire self into the song. Often Christine was afraid that she could never please her Angel. Whenever she did what he asked, he wanted more. If she landed on the note correctly, her voice was shaky. If her pitch was perfect, she hadn't held the note long enough. When the lesson was finally over for the day, Christine was exhausted. At the same time, though, she was filled with a euphoria that she had never known.

"I think we are done for the day, Christine," her Angel said as he noticed her eyes beginning to tire. "You have done well, better than I expected. Remember that you still have much to learn, though. Continue coming to this room each lesson, making yourself as little noticed as possible. Remember Christine...do not tell anyone of this. I have told you that I would not return if you did, and I meant it."

"Yes, Angel. May I ask you one question?" She felt nervous, knowing once again that her doubt was putting her into turmoil.

"Yes?"

"Why must I come here? Why can't you come to me at the conservatory? Forgive me, but wouldn't it be easier?" There was a long pause, and Christine began to worry that he had left her for good. She berated herself for asking.

"Because, child. To truly become excellent you must be in an atmosphere that fosters excellence. Do you really think you would reach your potential around novice pupils and instructors?"

"No," she agreed. "Thank you, and I apologize for questioning you."

" Goodbye Christine." His voice echoed away. Christine left the room and walked out into the setting sunlight to meet her carriage, her head within a deep fog. Many new sensations filled her mind. Some she recognized as the hope and excitement she had felt as a child first learning to sing. Others were new to her, making her almost feel more mature. Climbing into the carriage, she sighed in happiness. Christine was asleep before the horses even began to move.

Inside the Opera House, another soul was awakening. He had listened to the voice of an angel all afternoon and yearned for the next lesson so that he could hear it again. That day, one of the many stone walls he had built around himself over the years came crumbling down.


	9. Months of Bliss

**Keep the reviews coming!**

Between Christine's lessons with her Angel and her conservatory classes, the next few months went by in a blur of notes and melodies. If she was not singing for her Angel, Christine was lost within her thoughts. At each session at the Opera House, her voice reached new heights, and someone listening to her would have assumed she had been receiving professional lessons for years.

Her Angel was pleased with her work, she could tell. Though he always demanded perfection, he also constantly told her that she had surpassed his expectations. That with a little more work, she would be perfect. His compliments always sent thrills through her. More than his praise, though, she enjoyed it when he would sing to her in order to demonstrate what she must do. Christine could have sat there listening to his voice for the entire lesson.

At the same time, though, the lessons exhausted her.She often felt drained, her face pale and her eyes shadowed. Though her instructors at the conservatory were extremely impressed with her progress, they were constantly chiding her for nodding off during class. Raoul also noticed the changes in her whenever he returned from business.

"Christine," he began after a two-month trip. "You're looking extremely tired these days. Are you ill? Have you been eating well?" Raoul reached out and stroked her cheek, but she seemed almost oblivious to his touch.

"I'm wonderful, Raoul," she had responded with a dreamy look in her eye. "I've just been a little busy."

"Well, please don't overdo yourself, my dear. There are many plans to be made in the weeks ahead. Have you decided whom you would like to invite to the wedding? It's only two months away, and invitations must be sent out. I've made an appointment with a seamstress to go over dress designs. I know you are excited by that." His words awoke Christine from her fantasy world.

"Oh, the wedding. Yes, I...I've started planning some things out. I'm very excited." She smiled at him wearily. Raoul kissed her on the forehead and left, shaking his head. Christine sighed. She hadn't realized the wedding was drawing so close. The months had flown by so fast that she had forgotten this fairy tale would come to an end. Her lessons with her Angel would be over, and she would be a wife and Vicomtess.

One month before the wedding, Christine was at one of her lessons. A depressed feeling came over her as she realized how near the event was coming. She began to wonder what exactly she was aspiring to. Who would care how wonderful her voice was if no one would ever hear her sing? She also felt a dread at the thought of forever losing her Angel.

Her heart was not in her singing that day, and her Angel noticed her despondence. At first, he was irritated. "Christine! You are not listening to me today. Do you have somewhere else you'd rather be?" he asked harshly, after she had just sung an entire page off key.

She jumped at his tone. "I'm so sorry, Angel. Forgive me. I just..." she stared into space for a second, tears beginning to stream down her face.

His voice softened. "What is the matter, child? Are you tired? Perhaps I have worked you too hard these past days. We can end early if you'd like."

"No! I don't want it to end! Angel, I am to be married in a month. I shall live at Raoul's estate, and I won't be able to come anymore. Are you sure that you cannot speak to me there? I can't live without hearing your voice!" Embarrassed by her sudden outburst, Christine blushed and looked down, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Did you think that I would be with you forever, Christine? Your voice is nearing perfection, and what good would lessons do you then?" There was a tone to his voice that Christine had not heard before, almost a bitterness. He paused before continuing, as if beginning to contemplate something. "What do you really want, Christine? Certainly not to stay in this tiny room where only I am able to hear your divine voice."

Christine knew that he knew what she desired. Did she dare say it aloud, though? Could her Angel really help her to sing on stage for an audience? The thought was mind numbing. He had granted this wish, though, hadn't he?

"Angel?"

"Yes?"

"I want, just once in my life, to perform on stage. I want an audience to see me and throw flowers at my feet, just as they do for the most famous prima donnas. If I can have that, then I will never ask for anything else. I will be a grateful and devoted wife to my husband." She didn't know if her entire statement was true, but for now she could pretend it was.

There was a long silence and Christine held her breath, waiting for a response.

"Christine Daae?"

"Yes," she whispered hopefully.

"I believe that I can make this desire come true. You will have to follow my instructions very carefully, though, or you will find yourself in quite the disaster." Christine had never heard her Angel's voice sound so uncertain, so... human. "Do you remember the location of the room that I first called to you in?"

"Yes, Angel."

"Upon your next lesson, go to that room instead of to here. Do not ask why, and make certain that you are not seen. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she replied quietly, her mind already brimming with questions that she refrained from asking.

"Very well, child. We are done for today." Christine quickly left the room, her hands shaking and her heart pounding.

Her Angel watched her leave, wondering if he had completely lost all reason.

It had always been his plan to bring her onto the stage somehow. After months of pondering the matter, though, he still couldn't figure out how to go about doing it. Yet, as Christine became more amazing, he became more determined to see it through. The next opera was fast approaching.

It wouldn't be too difficult to get the managers to comply, for he controlled them well enough. One foolish move, though, and the damn Vicomte could forbid Christine to ever return. He couldn't risk that. Finally, he convinced himself that the only way to ensure her performance was to secure her presence.

The only way was to keep her with him.

He began to write a letter, the sound of his Angel's voice swirling through his mind.

Dear Monsieurs,

You will likely have noticed the absence of Mademoiselle Daae. Follow these instructions, and you will see her again and unharmed. Do not follow them, and you will find yourselves in a dangerous situation...

He continued writing into the night.

* * *

Christine stood in front of the conservatory and looked around nervously. Ever since her last music lesson she had felt anxious, and today was the day that she returned. Within her heart, she knew that her life was about to forever be changed. Her Angel had seemed so strange that day, and now she was going to return to that eerie room. For what reason...she did not know. 

Raoul noticed her anxiety when he met with her that day to go on a short stroll. "Christine," he had said. "Your face is absolutely ashen. I think you're becoming ill. Perhaps you should cancel today's lesson."

"No," gasped Christine somewhat desperately. "No, Raoul. I have to go to this lesson. There are so few left." She struggled to hold herself together. Raoul reached out to her worriedly.

"Christine, you are beginning to concern me lately. Is there something you're not telling me? I know I've been gone often, but you seem so distant now. It is as if I hardly know you."

"I...I'm just jittery about the wedding. Don't worry, Raoul. I promise that I'll get some rest after my lesson. I'll be fine."

"Very well, Christine. I have to be off now. Do not forget that we are meeting for brunch tomorrow and then going to meet with the seamstress."

"Yes, of course." After giving her a kiss on the cheek, the Vicomte helped her into the carriage that would take her to the Opera House. On the way there, her stomach turned with each bump in the road, and the ride seemed to stretch on forever. She didn't know whether it was eagerness or dread that clung to her.

Walking into the Opera House, Christine was relieved to see that no one was else around. Instead of heading straight back as she always did, she turned into the corridor that she had only been in once before. She could hear the laughter of young girls behind some of the doors, and she prayed no one would come out and see her. At first she was afraid that she would not be able to find the right room, but finally she recognized the door that she wanted. Just as she was turning the handle, she heard someone call her name. Christine cringed and turned around. It was Meg.

"Christine! What are you doing her?" asked Meg, her eyes wide with surprise.

Christine froze, as she quickly tried to think of something. "Well, I had to...I left a necklace in here that one night."

"Oh!" Meg didn't look convinced. "Well, it's probably not in there anymore. The room was cleaned out. Let me take you to the front office to see if someone brought it there."

"I...I.." Christine stuttered. "Would you mind going there for me? I can search this room just to be sure, while you go and ask the front office."

Meg could tell something was wrong from the look in Christine's eyes, but she didn't venture to ask any more questions. "I don't mind at all, but I really doubt that it is in there. I'll be right back." She gave Christine an odd look before turning around and walking the other away.

Christine heaved a sigh of relief, slightly surprised by her ability to lie so easily. Taking in a deep breath, she turned the handle and stepped into the tiny room.


	10. The Dark Path to the Dream

**Hi all! Thanks for your support! It was mentioned that Chapter 9 felt a little rushed and after looking it over, I agree. It was a little too spontaneous. I think I just hurried because I'm at chapter 10 and not very far into the story. That's no excuse for poor development, though. Keep pointing these things out to me!**

**Much of this chapter is what you've seen and heard before, though there is one small difference. Enjoy and keep reviewing! **

Once in the room, Christine looked around, searching for anything that would give her a clue as to why she was there. All looked the same as before, except for the cot, which was folded up neatly against the wall. Remembering Meg, Christine turned to lock the door, but found it was already locked from the inside. A part of her wanted to run. That, however, was no longer an option.

Her heart pounded in the deafening silence. What was she doing here? Where was her Angel?

"Christine," came the voice from above that she had grown to know so well.

"Angel," she choked out. "Angel, you came. Please tell me why am I here today."

"Christine, trust me as you have learned to do. You will soon have your glory."

"Yes, Angel." She felt her heart slowly calm down at his words as she waited for his instructions.

"Come towards your reflection in the mirror, Christine. Do not look back. Come, my Angel." Entranced by his voice, she did as she was told. Her head became cloudy as a gush of cold air burst into the room. She forgot everything but the reflection in the mirror. Only it was not her reflection looking back at her anymore. A dark form had begun to take shape there. It seemed to loom over her, control her. As she reached the cold glass, a black gloved hand reached out to her from inside. She took it without a thought. There was no going back.

Her thoughts blended with the darkness around her as she stepped through the mirror. Everything merged into a collage of candles, shadows, and whispers. Somewhere in her mind, Christine knew she was being led down stone steps and away from everything she had known. She had lost all control of her inhibitions, though, and allowed herself to be guided further by the figure.

After a long walk through darkness, the figure stopped. Christine could hear the soft trickle of water and realized that they were near a lake of some kind. Nearby was a small boat. For an instant, Christine awoke from the trance and looked about, her eyes finally resting on the shadow that had guided her down. In the candlelight, she could see the left profile of a man's face. He looked to be about forty or so, she thought. With his smooth black hair and green eyes, he was rather handsome. His dark black suit perfectly fitted his tall, slender form and contrasted with the pallor of his skin. He donned a black cape that fluttered softly in the breeze of the cavern.

He did not look down at her as he reached out to help her into the boat, and his expression showed no sign of emotion. It was only when he turned the other way to row, that Christine saw the right side of him, or rather didn't see the right side. A white mask hid that entire portion of his face, from his head to the lower part of his lip. She stared at it in wonder. As the masked man began to row gently through the pool of water, though, Christine found herself drifting off again. The echo of the water swiping the edges of the boat and the flickering shadows made her drowsy.

After what seemed like a short time, the man brought the boat into an extremely well lit area. Looking up, Christine realized she was near a house or shelter of some sort. Decked in candles, the structure sat in the middle of the large cavern. The man brought the boat up to the land and stepped out. He held his gloved hand out to Christine, and she slowly took it. "Angel," she whispered, softly.

Finally he spoke. She recognized it as the voice of her Angel, thought it was not as ethereal as she remembered it. "I have brought you to my kingdom, Christine. To sweet music's throne. Here you will reach the dream you have sought." Christine looked around in pure awe at the illuminated labyrinth, wondering if she really had entered a sort of underground paradise. While a part of her mind was warning her that she could possibly be in danger, her soul was telling her that she had finally come home. He watched her walk around the shore of his lair, a vague feeling of peace settling around him in her presence. Finally, Christine wandered up to him. As she approached him in wide-eyed innocence, he instinctively reached out and gently touched her face.

"Angel," she whispered for the second time. "Where am...," she began before he softly put a finger to her lips to silence her. It was all too much for the young girl, and she began to collapse in a sort of shock. He caught her before she hit the ground and carried her to a bedroom in the back.

As he watched her sleep for a second, he wondered if he had really done this. Had he really brought this girl to where no other person would dare set foot? Yes. Christine was down there alone with him, and no one else had any knowledge of it. In essence, he could do whatever he liked with her, and no one would ever know...not even her fiance.

He diverted his mind from that train of thought quickly. "She is solely down here so that I am able to create my ideal opera," he told himself. "After all of my effort, I deserve to have one night of perfection, and she desires to sing as well. When that is done, this will end." Prying away his eyes from her soft form and peaceful face, he closed the curtains.

* * *

What a dream it had been! Christine laid there for a moment with her eyes closed, pondering the meaning of it all. Darkness, candles, a masked figure! It was only after she fluttered her eyes open that she realized it had all been real. She was in a room, lying in a silk bed. Black curtains surrounded her, letting only a little light in from the outside. Where was she? Had her Angel led her here? But who was the man in the white mask? 

Slowly, Christine got up and pushed the shades back. She looked around the elaborate room, adorned with pillows, glass objects, and all sorts of valuables. On the table, there was a little music box with a monkey inside. She smiled down at the figurine and touched it.

Wandering around, Christine heard something from outside of the room...music of some sort. It sounded like an organ and was playing a violent melody like she had never heard before. The sound gave her chills, and she felt as if she were being drawn towards it. As she slowly approached the music, she saw that there was someone sitting at the organ, his back towards her. Was this her Angel? No. It was the man she had seen before. Unless that man was her Angel. So many questions....

He turned around and looked at her as she walked in, continuing to play the organ. She stared back at him quietly, not daring to interrupt him with another question. After he had turned around again, Christine began to approach him. Perhaps if she knew who this man was, she would understand more. Slowly she reached out her hand to his face, stroking the unmasked side. He continued to play, but he became slightly rigid as she touched him. Christine sensed his tension, but her curiosity reined over her reason. "Angel, who are you?" she asked silently, making her way over to the masked side.

Hesitantly, she touched the white porcelain with her fingerstips. Just as she began to slip her hand under the mask with the hopes of pulling it quickly off, the man jumped up from his seat. Christine let out a shriek of surprise as she was pushed backwards by his sharp movement. He came towards her, mask still firmly on, and cornered her against the wall, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Just what _were_ you about to do, Christine?" he asked mockingly. "Do you think I do not know the curiosity of women? My dear, you are not always so innocent as you pretend to be," he hissed.

"Perhaps I wouldn't have suspected it of you if you were a naive little girl, but we both know you are much wiser. You're engaged, dear, and the curiosity of the blushing bride-to-be is the worst kind of curiosity of all!" Christine stared up at him in horror, terrified of what he would do to her. No one had ever shouted so harshly at her before. He bent down to the level of her face, the light reflecting off his mask and into her eyes.

"Now Christine," he said softly, yet coldly. "Do you wish to stay down here in the dark forever, or do you wish to sing and then go marry your _charming_ Vicomte?" She just stared at him. "Answer me!"

"To sing," she whispered.

"Then it would do you well to shed your curiosity." He left her there, and she slumped onto the cold ground below her. Curling her arms up around her knees, she let out a little sob. She had lost her Angel, and now she was alone with this...madman. What would become of her? Why had he brought her here? And....what _was _behind the white mask?


	11. Falling into Place

**I'm glad that the last chapter got such good responses! You will see later that there is a point to my not unmasking Erik yet. Just be patient :)**

**I had to take some of this chapter's influence from Susan Kay. I needed casual interaction between the two characters, and the musical really doesn't have that. There is a little fluff here and there (I hope no one minds) but I really am trying to keep Erik in character. Look for him to be more calm and distant in the first half of the story and darker (sexier?) in the second half. Anyway, just a quick overview of things. Now onto the next chapter!**

When Christine had not met him for brunch the following day, Raoul wondered if she'd forgotten all about it. She seemed so lost in her daydreams lately that it really wasn't a surprise. With much irritation, he had searched the halls of the conservatory in the hopes of finding her or someone who had seen her as of late. He only became concerned when the girls of Christine's dorm told him that she had been gone all night. She certainly wasn't the type to go off by herself.

He knew that the last place she had been to last night was the opera house for her lessons. Perhaps she had been forced to stay there for some reason. When the Vicomte entered the opera house to search for her, he found himself face to face with two nervous managers. They looked at him as if he had come to kill them both. "Whatever is wrong?" Raoul had asked. Sighing, they had taken him into their office and told him of the note they had recently received. Here he sat now, fuming over the events that were unfolding.

"You mean to tell me...that a ghost...kidnaped my fiancee!?" Raoul raged. "Christine is missing, and you're going on about a ghost?! I don't know what the hell is going on, but I want Christine back now!" He slammed his fist onto the table, his face bright red.

Monsieur Andre stood up cautiously, unsure of what to do. "Monsieur, here is the note we received. If you can make more of it than I can, then be my guest. The fact is that we know as little as you do."

Raoul read the letter. Written in red ink, it was extremely detailed and gave instructions on how the upcoming opera should be performed, including how the scenery should be set up and who should be cast for each role. The only part Raoul focused on was the passage concerning Christine. "You shall cast Christine as the Countess in _Il Muto _on the opening night of the opera," Raoul read aloud. " Do not worry about rehearsals for she will be fully prepared. That night, allow her to complete her performance in its entirety. If any movement is made to retrieve her before the show is completed, there will be many accidents. When the opera is over, Mademoiselle Daae will return to you." Raoul stopped and looked up. "This is completely ridiculous! I am going for the police!"

"Are you sure that is wise?" began Firmin. "You may be putting her in more danger by doing so."

Raoul glared at him. "What do you suggest we do then, _Monsieur_? See this out? Wait for her to magically show up on the stage that one night? How do you know this whole thing is not some kind of game? Are you positive that her music teacher, Monsieur Cheevy or whatever the hell his name is, had nothing to do with this?"

Firmin sighed. "Monsieur Cheever has not been instructing Christine, I am afraid. He won't give the details of what happened, but his absence at the Opera House over the last few months has been confirmed by others."

"And none of you knew anything about this?" asked Raoul in disbelief. "I leave my future wife in your hands, and you don't even keep track of who is with her? This is utterly insane." He put his head into his hands, trying to think of what to do next.

Andre bit his lip and looked around, wondering if the ghost was listening to them even at that moment. "Monsieur, I am terribly sorry about this, and I understand your frustration. The fact, though, is that O.G. has taken your fiancee somewhere completely unknown. It is doubtful that the police will be able to find them in time. Allowing Christine to perform may be our best option for her safety. O.G., if not a ghost, is not an ordinary man, Monsieur. We have little choice."

Raoul opened his mouth to argue but realized he had nothing to say. He understood none of what was happening except that Christine had been taken from him. All he could do was wait.

"For now, let this be a secret amongst the three of us," said Andre softly. "We don't want an uproar over the incident." The Vicomte could only sullenly nod in response.

* * *

He paced back and forth outside her door, wondering when Christine would finally decide to come out of the room. Ever since the incident at the organ several hours before, she had been in there sobbing. Perhaps he had been too harsh with her, but her fear was the only way to ensure that she stayed away from his mask. The last thing she needed was to see the horror that lay beneath it. The last thing he needed was to see the disgust in her eyes as she looked upon his features. No. It was better that she feared his temper rather than his face. 

As he had watched Christine come towards him at the organ, he had seen her questioning brown eyes staring at the mask. "Do not do it, child," he had been thinking as she sauntered over to where he was. "You will regret it." Then came her prying fingers all over his face. He had almost been too late in moving away, but thankfully she had seen nothing.

Christine was past her years of pure innocence, no matter how badly she wanted to believe in angels. He would have to watch her.

Finally he gave up waiting on her to come out and pounded on the bedroom door.

Christine sat up and wiped her eyes on her dress sleeve. She had been alternating between periods of crying and daydreaming for several hours, trying to figure out just exactly what had happened to her. "Yes?" she answered meekly to the knock.

"Mademoiselle," came the man's voice. "If you have quit crying, perhaps you would like to begin practicing. There is only a week left before the opera, and you wouldn't want to be unprepared on your big night, would you?" His voice was not as cruel as it had been, but it was still not the comforting voice of her Angel. Christine debated over whether to leave the security of the little room. What if he screamed at her again? Or worse? At the same time, she was beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic. At least he didn't seem to be angry anymore. Christine opened the door to find him stiffly standing there.

"I'm ready to begin...Monsieur." She didn't look at him as she walked by, his dark figure towering over her.

"Very well, then. Come with me." He led her to the organ and handed her the script of an opera called _Il Muto_.

"Which part do I take?" she asked as she flipped through it, trying to concentrate on the notes in front of her.

"You are the lead role, of course. The Countess. Fitting, isn't it?" He said the last sentence with a slight sneer.

"What of Carlotta, though?"

He sighed. "You are the lead, Christine. Now let us begin." He started to play, and she sang, trying to forget the events that had just unfolded around her. At first she was unable to focus, knowing that it was no longer an Angel who was teaching her. After a while, though, she was able to lose herself in the music as she so often did during her lessons. As he helped her to improve, she was almost able to think of him as her Angel of Music again.

Compared to many of the pieces she had sung, the songs of _Il Muto _were not too difficult. Much of it was comedic dialogue that didn't require a very large range. Christine felt that she could learn it easily in the time provided, that is if she could concentrate.

They rehearsed for several hours without stopping. She could tell the lesson was finally over when he stopped playing the organ, a satisfied look in his eye and his hands folded neatly on the keys. Christine fidgeted with the music sheets, unsure of what to do. She wondered if he wanted her to leave. "Is there anything that you need?" he finally asked, still not looking at her.

"I...I haven't eaten for a while" she replied quietly, suddenly feeling hunger pains. He felt slightly ridiculous at not offering her anything sooner.

"Sit at the table then, and I will make you something," he commanded. Christine did as he said, nervously glancing at him from the side. Her earlier fear turned into a sort of awkwardness. She could no longer talk to him as if he were her Angel, nor could she speak to him like she would an ordinary man. Soon he placed a soup of some kind in front of her. Cautiously, she began to sip it, still keeping an eye on her surroundings. He watched her eat for a minute before speaking again.

"Christine," he began slowly. "You may go wherever you would like in my home, except for the back room on the right. Stay out of there. Everything that you need as far as clothing is concerned should be available in your room." She nodded and continued to watch him. He seemed so rigid, as if talking to her were a trying task. "Do you have any questions, Christine?"

She laughed on the inside at that. He must know that she had hundreds of them. Gathering her courage, Christine decided to ask the most prying question on her mind.

"I do have one," she said averting her eyes. "Am I...am I allowed to leave here?" It was her own way of asking whether she was a prisoner.

The room was silent for a moment. He had been hoping that he would not have to explain the situation to her until later. Perhaps she deserved some peace of mind, though. "If you do not wish to sing, Christine, then you may leave. However, your presence down here is the only thing that will ensure your performance on stage. Do you think that your fiance would allow you to sing if you asked him? I am sure he would be ecstatic at the thought of that... No, Christine. In order to ensure that you have your moment of glory, it is necessary that they all believe you to be in danger."

Slowly, Christine began to understand why she had been brought there. Had her entire illusion of an Angel not just been shattered, she would have been quite amazed by this brilliant plan. This man must have made some kind of deal, she guessed, with the managers of the Opera House regarding her performance and her return. She stared at him in silent awe. Who was he who seemed to have so much power over everyone? Why had he used it to help her? She had to know more...anything.

Monsieur...may I know your name?" That was a beginning.

He paused, debating whether to give her that piece of information. "It is Erik," he said softly. "Do not ask for the last."

"Erik," she repeated. She stood up, cautiously laying her hand on his shoulder. "Thank you." He tensed up at her touch and said nothing. Christine walked back to her bedroom and laid down, exhausted from the events of the day.


	12. The Ring

**Hello! I put two chapters up. The first one is more for the development of the relationship. It's not extremely exciting, though I did have fun writing the conversation between Erik and Christine. The second chapter up is more fluffy, but it does have plot significance. So stick with me folks and thanks for your support! _Il Muto_ should be up tomorrow!**

Over her next few days beneath the earth, Christine spent the majority of her time rehearsing. Her voice and his organ filled the expansive labyrinth with a torrent of music. She could feel her voice continuing to improve to heights she never imagined. Sometimes Christine learned her parts so quickly that Erik wondered if it was even necessary to practice anymore. She would already stun all of Paris.

When she wasn't practicing, Christine looked about the underground home. Erik had a wide variety of trinkets and gadgets that she enjoyed admiring and toying with. He also had an extensive collection of books, which she would read during her idle hours. In many way, Christine felt like a child again, exploring the world for the first time. Erik divided his hours between composing and watching, with some amusement, as Christine ventured about his domain.

Christine hadn't quite decided if she minded being down there or not. At first she had panicked at the thought of being alone with him. She still lacked trust for him after he had first pretended to be an angel and then left her in a sobbing heap on the floor. Over time, though, she began to feel a sense of peace in the lair. It was quite a beautiful place in its own way, and it was almost nice to escape from the constant bustle of everyday life.

Then there was the thought of Raoul. He had been gone on business so often anyway that it wasn't really a matter of missing him. She did feel extremely guilty over the stress and worry that he must be going through over her disappearance. On one occasion she had even considered telling Erik that she wished to go back. It was too cruel to torture those that she loved like this. Yet, Christine refrained. She had worked much too hard to turn back now.

On her fourth day there, after her lesson, Christine sat down while Erik began to compose. Usually at this time of day she went to her room. He glanced at her. "Can I get you something, Christine?"

"I just wanted to listen to you play awhile tonight. May I?" She was growing tired of her room and feeling rather lonely.

"If you'd like." He continued, and she sat there, fingering the tablecloth lace. The melody was like the one she had heard the first day, violent and powerful. It was so full of rage...of passion. She wondered what feelings could make him play like that. Glancing at the top sheet of music, she saw the words "Don Juan Triumphant." It must have been his own composition.

After a while, the melody began to make her edgy. It was a work of genius, no doubt, but it was also a very troubling piece. She suddenly began to feel her head throb in time with the music, as if her mind was going to explode. Christine felt a desperate need to get out.

"Erik?" He stopped playing.

"Yes?"

"Is there any way for us to leave here for just a little while? I don't mean that I want to go before my performance, but I'm afraid that I need some fresh air." She hoped he wouldn't become angry by her request.

He sighed. The thought of taking her out made him nervous. He felt eerily calm when she was securely down there, though he knew he would be letting her go within a few days.

"It will be risky, Christine."

"We will be very quiet, though. I don't think anyone else will even be around."

"Very well," he reluctantly replied. She was beginning to look a little sickly, and he didn't want her to be completely miserable down there. Erik retrieved his hat and Christine slipped into a warmer dress. He rowed them through the catacombs, stopping at one of the ledges. Here he opened a side panel that led out of the tunnel and into the outside. Christine began to understand how he had such presence in the Opera House. There must have been passages everywhere!

They walked outside into the clear night silently. The streets were empty, except for a few managers closing their shops. Stars shown above them, and a light wind rustled the trees. Christine took a deep breath of fresh air and felt a calm come over her, now knowing for sure that she did have the ability to leave should she want to. "It's beautiful out," she began. "I love the city at night."

"Yes," he agreed. "The night is pleasing."

"Do you ever come outside in the daytime?" she asked cautiously.

"No. I dislike having many people around."

She laughed lightly. "Yes, I understand what you mean. My fiancé is always dragging me to these frilly parties with all these gossipy people. They sit there and talk of things I know nothing about, and I just wish to get away from them." Christine blushed at her sudden outwardness and looked at him shyly out the corner of her eye.

Though his expression bore no emotion, Christine thought she saw a slightly disturbed look in his green eyes. It was always hard to tell what he was thinking with that accursed mask. She sighed and they continued to walk, keeping a fair distance from one another.

"How long have you known your fiancé, Christine?" The question, though monotonous, had a slight edge to it. She was surprised that he had asked, for Erik had never shown any interest in her life outside of singing.

"Oh," she began with a slight laugh. "I've known Raoul forever. When I was a little girl, I dropped my scarf into the sea, and he fished it out of the water. We used to spend hours telling stories and playing around. Then we parted for a while, but he found me while I was at the conservatory."

"Then you became engaged?" Erik stopped walking and turned to look at her. It was now too dark to see his expression.

"Well, we courted for a while. But yes, we became engaged quickly. I mean, he was my sweetheart and could provide for me very well. It seemed...perfect I suppose." She was beginning to feel uncomfortable at telling this strange man the details of her romantic life. Erik continued to press on, though.

"Perfect, yet he won't allow you to sing. He does hold quite the leash on you, doesn't he _child_." The hostility in the statement caught Christine off guard for a minute.

"Oh...well...I... No gentleman would wanthis wife to sing in public," she began defensively. "It would be scandalous. That is why I am so happy you gave me this opportunity. I can sing _before_ I am married."

Suddenly, a black cat jumped out of a tree in front of them and let out a long screech, causing Christine to gasp and grab onto Erik's gloved hand. She giggled at her own fear, and he instinctively gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. Feeling the engagement ring, Erik quickly released her hand, as if the metal burned right through his glove. Christine found herself to be slightly offended by his reaction.

They continued to walk for a while, Christine mindlessly daydreaming and toying with the jewel on her hand. At some moment, she realized, with horror, that she could no longer feel the ring. "Oh no!" she gasped looking down.

Erik looked up sharply. "What is it, Christine?"

"I've lost my engagement ring! Oh, Erik! I have to find it. Help me, please." Christine got down on her knees and beginning digging through the dirt with her bare hands. She scoured the area desperately, very nearly in tears. Erik just stood there and watched with his arms folded. He'd be damned if he'd waste a breath looking for it. At the corner of his eye, he saw something tiny gleam in the moonlight near his shoe. Bending down, he picked it up. It was the ring.

"Did you find it?" Christine asked hopefully, looking up from her spot on the ground. Erik hesitated.

"No, I did not." When she had turned back around, he placed the ring in his pocket. "Christine, you shall never find it, my dear. The night has swallowed it!"

"Oh, Erik! What will I tell Raoul, though? I can't believe I lost it!"

"I'm sure he will be able to afford another," Erik replied wryly. "Now let us be going Christine."

She reluctantly got up and wiped her eyes. Slowly, Christine walked to where Erik was standing, a miserable look on her face. He placed his hand into her now ringless one, and she took the comforting gesture gratefully. _Just for this one night, he could pretend that Christine was his._


	13. Two Revelations

_Il Muto _was tomorrow. Christine glanced at the clock in the corner of her room. In twenty-four hours she would be on stage. In twenty-four hours this would end. A feeling of apprehension, nerves she told herself, overtook her.

The last days had gone by quietly. They had rehearsed several times more, until she really had become practically perfect. Christine continued to sit up and listen to Erik compose after her lesson. Though his music still made her nervous, she had started to become enthralled by it. It made her heart throb and her palms sweat, giving her sensations that she had never experienced. When he was finished, she would continue to stare into space until he asked her if anything was wrong. She just shook her head, still mesmerized.

This last night, the music was even more furious, and Erik seemed to have lost his concentration. Usually so composed, he would often hit the wrong key and then pound the organ in frustration. Finally he gave up on his music and turned to her. "Do you wish to rehearse once more Christine?" he asked sharply.

"No," she answered quietly. "I'm ready. You have made me perfect, and I cannot go any farther." He turned away, and she saw unmistakable pain in his eyes.

"Perhaps it is time for you to go to bed." Christine nodded and started to get up but then sat back down. She felt the need to get something off of her mind, and he was the only one there.

"Erik?"

"What is it Christine?" He sounded tired.

"One time, when I was younger, I came to the Opera House to try out for the ballet."

"You did?!" he turned around in surprise that was uncharacteristic of him, wondering what idiot hadn't accepted her into the corpse.

"Yes. I never told anyone about it before. It was too humiliating. I was really all but in. A teacher had given me strong recommendations with a friend inside the Opera House. And really, I was one of the most experienced girls there." Erik waited for her to continue.

"I got up on stage in my little pink outfit, ready to start dancing. Up to then, I had really been quite confident. Then, out of nowhere, this terrible feeling of dread came over me. I felt so sick inside, as if something awful was going to happen to me on stage. There I was, frozen with my mouth gaping open in front of all these people. An instructor had to come and pull me off." Christine gazed towards the distance for a second, her eyes in another time.

"I think sometimes about what if I hadn't panicked? Then I would have left the conservatory and worked in the Opera House. Isn't that an odd thought? Erik! What if I had met you then somehow? We could have..." She stopped, as if realizing the conversation could take her to a place she wasn't prepared to go.

"We could have what, Christine?" His green eyes bore into her, daring her to go on.

"Nothing," she replied. "I'm sorry to be so silly." She got up and ran into her bedroom, her face flushed.

He sighed and took the ring out from his pocket. In less than twenty-four hours she would be gone. Their moment of glory, the moment he had looked forward to for so long, was finally at hand. It did not seem as sweet as he had once thought it would. Rather, it was bitter.

Suddenly his mask seemed very heavy on his face. With Christine around, he rarely got to take it off, and the hard porcelain often became uncomfortable. Slowly, he removed it for a minute, feeling the cool air touch his deformed flesh. Sighing, he reached up and gently touched the uncovered skin and bone with disgust, before replacing the mask. At least she would never know....

Erik, usually so keenly aware of his surroundings, did not remember that Christine had left her door open. He did not see or hear her standing in the corner, staring at him with her wide brown eyes. Before he turned around, she had walked in a quiet daze back to her bed and crawled under the covers. His face stayed in her mind as she closed her eyes. Suddenly everything made sense. And yet nothing did....

* * *

There were only five hours left before the show, and Christine had been in her room most of the day. Though Erik was concerned, he figured that she must have been nervous. After all, she would be singing in front of everyone.

Christine _was_ nervous about the opera that night. That was not, however, the reason she remained in her room. Truthfully, she didn't know how to face Erik after what she had seen.

It had been almost like a skull. His nose seemed to disappear on that side of his face, and his eye sunk deeply into its socket. Scars, no, gashes lined his cheek and forehead, some of them revealing patches of white bone. His lips were twisted and malformed like something she had never seen before, and his skin clung so tightly to his face that it revealed all the outlines of the skeleton underneath. Christine couldn't get it out of her mind.

Was she terrified? She was terrified of him finding out that she had seen but not really of the face itself. She had come to know Erik too well. Did it disgust her? She didn't know. Spiders and snakes were disgusting. This was something else altogether. Christine did know that she felt pity for him, though she knew that he wouldn't want her to. Poor Erik! Forced to live down here in the darkness because of his face. No wonder he didn't want people around!

She had at first pondered the thought of remaining in her room until it was time for her to perform. If she somehow gave away that she had seen his face, Erik would be furious, even if it had been an accident. After everything he had done for her, though, Christine decided it was unfair to leave him alone in their last few hours together. Besides, she really did want to see him before she left. He made her feel so confident about her upcoming performance. Finally, Christine left her room. Erik met her immediately at the door.

"Christine," he said simply.

"Hello, Erik," she said, trying to act normally, averting her eyes from his masked side.

"Are you...feeling well today?" He noticed the strange expression on her face but couldn't quite make out what it was she was thinking about.

"Yes. I'm just nervous about the opera tonight."

"You will do fine, Christine. You are better prepared than I ever could have imagined. Now, listen to me carefully. At precisely seven, we shall go up and wait behind the stage, completely hidden from view. When the curtain opens and the audience applauds, you will come out in costume. From there, do not worry about anything but playing your part. I will take care of all else, no matter who happens to be there. It _is_ possible that the police will be present. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand." For a moment, Christine forgot about the face. What he had done for her was truly beyond words. She wrapped Erik in a tight embrace, feeling his warmth around her. He stood their awkwardly before putting his arms around her small shoulders.

"Thank you, Erik. You've done so much for me these past months. I...I will miss you." A tear ran down her face. Wiping it away, she hurried away to put her costume on.

Erik stared after her, feeling himself slowly go to pieces. "You could keep her!" a voice inside his head screamed. "You could keep her down here forever if you wanted to!"

"No!" he lashed back. "She has fulfilled my purpose. She will sing tonight in the opera and that will be the end of it." He touched his mask. "It is better that way."


	14. Il Muto

**Well, here is _Il Muto_. It's shorter than I expected it to be, but I hope you enjoy it!**

They waited in the shadows behind the stage for the applause to begin. Christine's heart beat rapidly as she saw how many people were in the audience. She prayed desperately for everything to go well. Erik stood close to her, and she could feel his warm breath on her ear. "You will do wonderfully, Christine," he whispered. "I will be watching." A chill went through her body, and she tightly closed her eyes.

When the clapping began, Christine took in a deep breath. She gathered up the elaborate dress she wore into her hands and looked up into Erik's face. He mouthed the word "go." A part of her longed to stay in the shadows, but she knew it was time to sing. In a small wave of passion, Christine quickly planted a kiss on Erik's cheek and ran out from behind the curtains, leaving him with a look of shock.

Christine stepped into the bright lights of the stage. She was at first dizzy but was able to steady herself after a moment. Looking around, she observed Raoul in the very front row with the two managers. A look of pure relief came over his face when he saw her walk on. He started to motion her to come towards him but was stopped quickly by a nervous Andre. She shook her head and smiled at him before turning back to the audience.

Christine began to sing her first lines. Though at first she was nervous, it did not take long before she became lost within the music. Everything she had learned, everything she had experienced burst through within her songs. It came naturally and without thought. Without rehearsal, she still timed her parts perfectly with the rest of the cast. In the back of her mind, she knew that Erik would be proud.

In the stage lights, Christine looked gorgeous in her elaborate costume. Her sparkling pink dress shimmered on the stage, and her brown curls fell to the sides in long waves. Even Raoul, who was dying to pull her down to him, couldn't help but be stunned by her beauty.

She smiled widely as the audience laughed at her more humorous lines and clapped after her songs. It was as if she was in a dream, and the first act went by in a blur. Before she knew it, the audience was on its feet applauding for her, whistles pouring out from the auditorium. Though ecstatic, Christine realized it was intermission. Erik hadn't said what she should do at this time. Should she go with the rest of the cast?

Christine sauntered back behind a curtain and into the shadows again, trying to stay hidden. Suddenly she saw someone approach her from the right. It was a tall thin man with a moustache, and he was dressed in a dark uniform. "Raoul must have brought the police!" she realized in panic.

"Mademoiselle!" called the man. "You're safe now. I am with the police. You may come down from the stage. Do not worry about the rest of the play."

"No!" gasped Christine. "I have to finish!"

"Please come, Mademoiselle." The officer began to pull her towards the exit.

"No!" Christine attempted to get out of his grasp. Suddenly he released her. A horrified expression crossed the man's face, as he began to choke and grab at his throat. This was followed by a sickening pop that rang into Christine's ears. She stared in horror as the officer's lifeless face dangled in front of her. His eyes were open, and his mouth was still fixed in an expression of terror.

"What's going on back there, Frederick?" a voice called from the back. "Did you find the girl?"

Christine gasped as another policeman, obviously a partner of the first, walked in. He gasped when he saw the hanging body. "Good God!"

"Go back!" Christine cried, trying to wave him away. "Go back!" He just stared at her, then turned on his heel and attempted to run. Before he could take more than a step, though, he too began to gasp and choke. This time, though, there was no pop. After the man had lost consciousness, the noose was loosened and he fell to the ground.

As Christine backed up in shock, she heard the sound of Erik's voice from somewhere in the dark.

"Go on, Christine," he whispered. "It is time for act two." In stunned silence, she went back up on the stage.

_Had Erik really done it? _She stared into the audience again as it began to applaud. Raoul had a furious expression on his face, obviously realizing that the two policemen he had sent to retrieve her had not succeeded.

Christine began to sing again, desperately trying to forget the backstage incident. Her song once again filled the room, and she lost herself in the drama of the play again. Raising her voice to its highest levels, she put the horrible event to the back of her mind. She surpassed even her performance in the first act. Again, the scenes flew by quickly.

As Christine sang out the last words of the opera, she couldn't believe it had come to an end. Applause rang out from everywhere. Whistles greeted her. Dozens of flowers landed at her feet. Her eyes shined radiantly as she bowed before everyone. Somewhere, she heard Raoul calling out her name.

From the shadows above, Erik watched her in her moment of glory. His moment of glory. This was exactly what he had planned for, what he had imagined. The only thing that had almost kept it from perfection were the two officers, but he had been prepared for that. He just wished that she hadn't seen it. From below, he could hear screams as the dead and unconscious policemen were found.

Now he watched as the Vicomte ran upon to the stage in a frenzy, the two mangers close behind him. The boy embraced Christine tightly and planted a kiss into her soft hair. She just smiled at him with dreamy eyes and allowed him to lead her off of the stage.

Erik was on the verge of jumping down there...of grabbing Christine out of the Vicomte's grasp and whisking her back down below the earth. He felt a blind fury run through him, taking away all sense of reason. With that kiss, she had to be his. There was no other alternative.

It became too late, though, as a crowd began to gather at the sight of the murder, blocking all pathways. Christine was lead quickly through the mob and out of the opera house before he was even within range of her. He helplessly watched her disappear through the doors.

It didn't matter that he had accomplished his foremost goal. Nothing but emptiness engulfed him. What he had imagined as a moment of triumph was filled with nothing but pain and self- loathing. From a higher window, he watched as Christine was carried off into the night. Bitter rage filled him, and he smashed the nearest object in sight, a vase that sent shards of glass into the air. "Christine," he whispered defeatedly as he knelt down. "At least you never saw the monster."

Christine now sat securely next to her fiancé, still in a daze. She stared mindlessly out the carriage window, trying to find some semblance of sense in all that had occurred. Visions of singing and ecstacy were mixed with those of murder and horror. Slowly, her eyes began to grow heavy with exhaustion. Laying her head against her fiance's shoulder, she sighed and whispered the word "Erik."

"What was that, my love?" asked Raoul looking down at her. He received no response.

**Well, that's the conclusion of Part 1. It may take me several days to figure out exactly how Part 2 will go so hang tight. I'd like to receive a lot of reviews before I go on.... Unless you want me to end it right here. (Evil Grin) **

**Review!**


	15. Forgetting

**Hello! Thank you all so much for the reviews! (And the Threats) You guys are awesome! I'm glad everyone is enjoying this so much. Now I feel like I have to meet your expectations, though. Yikes!**

**At the risk of being hunted down, slapped, or smited...here's the next chapter. Basically it just sets the tone for the next half. Not that exciting, but I had to start somewhere.**

The Vicomte paced back and forth outside of the doors of the conservatory. Every few minutes he would check his watch and sigh. Today was one of the few times in the past two months that Christine was agreeing to meet with him. He'd felt like he'd been slowly losing her ever since the...incident.

It had been his original plan to take her far away from everything, possibly to a manor out in the country where she could stay with some family contacts. Yet, Christine had insisted on staying at the conservatory, saying that all of her belongings and friends were there. A doctor had agreed that it may be best for her to stay around settings that were familiar to her. So Christine remained there, usually locked in her room, doing God knows what.

On some days she would agree to see him, and they would go on a silent walk. He would try to make idle conversation, but she would just nod or grunt in agreement. When he asked her how she was, she would say "Fine" and continue to stare straight ahead. The wedding had to be postponed by two months, and Raoul was worried it would have to be delayed again. It seemed so long ago that everything had been perfect...

Raoul glared to himself. If he ever found out who had taken her, he surely would kill them. Who knew what the bastard had done to her in those days? The police had questioned Christine the day after the opera, but she refused to say anything about where she had been. She simply said she could remember nothing of her kidnaping and knew nothing of the tragedy behind the stage. They figured she must have gone into a sort of shock.

So Raoul continued to wait for Christine to recover from her stupor. He waited for her cheeks to gain their rosy color back and for the blank look in her brown eyes to disappear. His greatest hope was that once they were married, she would recover. For now, he had to believe that.

Christine looked in the mirror as she prepared to meet Raoul. "My Lord, I look terrible," she thought to herself. Her eyes were darkly shadowed, and her face had become much thinner. The past two months had been lost in many hours of sleep and daydreaming. Each day seemed to blend with the next. It seemed like it was only yesterday that she had sung on stage, witnessed the gruesome murder of a man, and been whisked off into the night by her fiance.

At first she thought that no one would stop questioning her: Raoul, the police, doctors. All were desperate to know where she'd been, who she was with. She had told them nothing. She would never tell them of her dark angel.

When they had finally left her alone, she had returned to the conservatory. Here she futilely tried to forget all that had happened, to move on with her life. "So foolish was I to think that one night of singing would be enough for me to be happy," she said softly to her reflection.

That was what she first imagined the source of her emptiness to be. She would never again get to experience the feeling of lifting her voice up to its highest ranges. Music would slowly disappear from her life. Of course she would feel depressed about that.

Deep down, though, she knew there was so much more to it. There were other feelings inside of her, too. Ones she wasn't able to understand. Her closest comparison to them was Erik's music: powerful, passionate, throbbing, perhaps even violent. She didn't dwell on them for long, though, knowing that she would go nearly insane if she did.

Then there was always that awful vision of that man's face hanging lifelessly in front of her, slowly rocking back and forth. Sometimes she pretended it had never happened. Never did she admit to herself Erik had done it. Not the man who had taught her to sing so beautifully. No....

Christine moped for days on end, trying to understand the voids inside of her. In the past week, though, she had finally given herself a proverbial slap in the face. What good did it do to think about the past? She had gotten what she desired and was now being selfish. Poor Raoul. The wedding had already been delayed once. What she must be doing to him! She had to attempt to move on with her life somehow, even if she had to pretend the emptiness was not there.

Christine came down the stairs and smiled at her fiance. Raoul seemed relieved to see her looking better than she had before. The shadows around her eyes had faded some.

"My love," he said softly. "How are you?" Christine had noticed that Raoul became more gentle after her disappearance. He was more patient with her, perhaps less brash. It occurred to her that she really had scared him in that surreal week underground. She felt guilty that she was not able to feel closer to him in these last months.

"I am better Raoul. I am happy to see you." Christine put her heart into the words, though they still sounded lackluster.

"And I am ecstatic to see you, Christine. You're looking better today. Is there somewhere you would like to go?"

"No. I'd just like to take a short walk outside."

"Very well." He offered his arm to her, and they walked down the stone path and into the sunlight. Christine couldn't help but think of her one walk in the moonlight.

They continued in silence for a while. She looked around, trying to appreciate the scenery and warm weather. It had been a while since she had noticed anything.

"Christine," Raoul began suddenly. "I don't mean to put this on you so suddenly, but the wedding is drawing nearer. If you aren't ready, then I understand..."

"No, Raoul," Christine interrupted. "It is time for us to be married. We've waited too long as it is. I'm ready for preparations, although...I'm afraid I'm going to need a new engagement ring." She looked down at her empty finger, thoughtfully. Raoul was at first going to question her about the ring but thought better of it. The Vicomte picked Christine up and spun her around in the air, before gently kissing her cheek.

"I'll buy you ten new engagement rings, Christine! You have made me happy all over again. I promise that whatever you went through will be far from your mind after you begin your life with me." Christine attempted to give him a genuine smile.

* * *

Two months...two months since she had left. Left to get married...to be a Vicomtess. Every day since had been full of misery. He thought of nothing but her, her scent lingering in the air around him like rose-scented poison. He had never expected this. When he had heard her sing for the first time, she was simply a means to his end. The primary player in his plan. He should have been extremely pleased with how things went that night. Yet there was nothing but death inside of him. Whenever he thought of her, he wanted to die. 

The only thing that could take his mind off of her even for a moment was his music. His precious Don Juan. Since she had left, he had rewritten many of the parts. It had become darker, more passionate. It was nearing completion, but he doubted it would ever be performed. Carlotta's neck would snap before she ever sang a word of it! There was only one person who could play the lead role. He knew that now. Perhaps it would remain hidden until he was long dead.

"Damn her!" he shouted, turning away from his organ. What had she reduced him to? Why did he have to yearn for her so badly? He had once been a powerful presence there. All had feared and obeyed him. Now the Opera Ghost had disappeared for months, just an ugly shell of him left in the dungeons below.

In his most furious moments, he felt that she had betrayed him. Hadn't he given her everything she wanted, only for her to leave him in this dark hell? In rare moments of reason, though, he knew it wasn't betrayal. She had never been his. She was bound to the boy before he had met her. Now she was likely bound by marriage...by consummation. She had never and would never be his. God, how he wanted, no, needed her to be.

As the weeks passed, the misery slowly changed to a colder bitterness. He made up his mind to forget her. He would gain his power back. This opera house would be his again, to mold and manipulate. It had started to go to hell without his control. The orchestra was a complete disgrace, and the managers were at Carlotta's every whim after her tantrum over not starring in Il_ Muto _on the first night. Much work had to be done. "They have even more reason to fear me," he thought with twisted delight, "now that I have committed murder on their grounds."

He would make sure they continued to fear him, too. If anyone got in his way, they would meet their end. No more second chances and games. No more only half meeting his demands. He would require complete obedience, perhaps making his first appearance at that ridiculous masquerade ball they loved so much. _They would certainly be happy to see him._

As the bitterness completely consumed his mind, he sometimes remembered the story Christine had told him about rehearsing for the ballet. "What if I had met you then somehow?" she had quietly wondered, referring to the scenario of her entering the opera house at a young age.

"If you had met me then, child," he answered, squeezing her ring in his palm until it made a red imprint, "you would have been undeniably mine forever."


	16. Naivety

**Side note: Uh...I just found out by looking at reviews for another story that Erik has golden eyes. Sorry! I've read the book but forgot that detail. Unless anyone has objections, I'm going to keep them green.**

**This chapter is more devoted to Christine and her emotions. Get through it, and I promise that the next two chapters will be more enjoyable.**

Christine threaded her hand through the coarse lace of the white wedding gown. The sequins on the wedding dress shimmered in the light as she moved them. It looked so elegant on the hanger in the dress shop, perhaps too elegant for her. Raoul had wanted her to have the best one, though. He'd also gotten her an even more elaborate engagement ring. She liked the old one better.

They were to be married within three weeks. Invitations had been sent out, and caterers and decorators were already scheduled to begin work. She had even begun sending some of her belongings to Raoul's estate. He was constantly by her side these days, as if afraid she would disappear again. After all, the kidnaper had never been apprehended.

Christine never really thought about Erik coming to find her, or at least she never worried about it. It was almost like a silent agreement that after the opera, they would part. The thought made her feel oddly empty when she thought about it for too long, as if her angel had really vanished from the earth. Each day, the feeling seemed to worsen, until it became a permanent ache somewhere between her heart and stomach.

"Christine!" Raoul took her out of her deep thoughts as he often did. "How are you my love? Are you ready to bring the dress home?"

"Oh yes, Raoul! It's lovely." She stood up to give him a hug and noticed a large envelope was hanging out of his side coat pocket. "What is that?" she asked pointing.

He looked down in contempt at it. "Oh. That is nothing, Christine. Nothing of any concern."

She sighed. She hated how he still kept things from her, left her out of his affairs as if she were a small child. Now she was more curious than ever.

"Please tell me what it is, Raoul. It's really a simple question."

"I told you it was none of your concern," he replied with irritation. Seeing the hurt look on her face, he sighed. "It is just an invitation. I...the opera house had the nerve to invite us to one of their parties of some sort. Seeing as I am not a patron anymore, I guess they are trying to make up for the nightmare that they put us through. I just did not want to...bring the mess up to you again."

"May I see it, Raoul?" He sighed and handed her the large white envelope. She opened it up and took out a small white card.

It was an invitation to an annual masquerade ball of some sort at the opera house. She remembered hearing about it before from some of the upperclass girls in her conservatory who described it as a gigantic costume party. Christine smiled at the thought of the beautiful building all decorated for the event. As Raoul noticed the glazed look coming back into her eyes, he yanked the invitation back.

"Let's just...forget all about this, Christine. I am sorry you even saw it." Christine started to just nod in acceptance but stopped.

"Raoul...I think that I would like to go to that ball. It would, perhaps, do me good to go I think."

Raoul looked at her in surprise. "After everything that has happened, you wish to go back to that godforsaken place? Christine, the misjudgements of the people there nearly got you killed. As I walked out for the last time, I vowed to never come back."

"But Raoul, I love the opera house. That hasn't changed. You do not mean to keep me from there forever, do you? Besides, my love, you shall be there with me. Nothing will happen, if that is what you are worried about."

"It is not that Christine. Are you sure that you will be all right returning? You've never told me what happened to you, though God knows I've always wondered, but I know that it left a permanent scar on you. You have never seemed the same."

Christine sighed. "I know, dear. But perhaps returning will help me to put some of it behind me. It does sound like a splendid party, and many of the girls from my conservatory will be there. Please, Raoul. Let's go." He could not resist the longing look in her soft brown eyes.

"Very well, Christine. We shall go. Perhaps you are right about not avoiding the place forever. It is one of the best institutes for the arts in all of France, despite having the most incompetent managers I have ever met."

"Thank you Raoul." He had expected her to jump up and hug him with gratitude. Instead, Christine had begun to stare into space, a sad smile forming on her lips. He shook his head and went to pay for the dress.

* * *

Each day the wedding drew nearer. Each day Christine prayed that she would wake up and be overjoyed to be getting married soon. No Angels came to answer her wishes. She had already used up all of her prayers it seemed.

It wasn't that she didn't love Raoul. He was comforting and generous, and she knew that he could provide her with a good life. The marriage itself was what frighted her so. It served as a turning point from which she could never look back from. A seal on her fate, perhaps. She would be bound to the lifestyle of a Vicomtess, consisting of endless parties and constant devotion to her husband. All of the magic that had happened in that one week would disappear. As long as she was unmarried, though, a part of her could still cling to the dark kingdom beneath the earth.

Thoughts of Erik pervaded her mind more often now. The more she tried to forget him, the harder it became. She remembered the music, the walk under the stars, his voice; while perhaps unconsciously pushing the more unpleasant memories of him from her mind. When she had kissed his cheek before rushing onto the stage, she had felt something completely unknown surge through her entire body. Though she was ashamed to admit it to herself, she desired that feeling again.

Once in a while Christine considered trying to find him. She even found herself feeling depressed that he had never sought her out. But what did she want from him? More voice lessons? To hear him sing? That sounded ridiculous. Perhaps she just needed to say goodbye to him in person.

When she had asked Raoul to take her to the ball, it had not been with the conscious intent of finding Erik. More so, she just wanted to go back there, to be closer to all that had happened before she was to be married. It would serve as a goodbye to her dreams of the past. As the wedding approached, though, she knew it would take more than a masquerade ball to find closure.

Three days before the wedding, one day before the ball, Christine Daae made a decision. If she was ever to be at peace with her future, she had to see Erik one last time. She at least had to talk to him, perhaps see if he understood any of the odd feelings that she had.

The masquerade was really her last chance at finding him unnoticed before her marriage. Everyone would be in costume so no one would question her if she attempted to go back to the little room. If she could just find her way to the mirror, perhaps she could call to him. Perhaps he would hear her somehow if she pounded on the glass.

If he didn't come, she would have to accept the fact that he was either gone or did not wish to be disturbed. That would be the end of it. She would be married, knowing that she had tried.

If she did manage to find him...well, then she would try to talk to him. "He will probably look at you like you have gone completely mad," she told herself. "It's most likely that he has forgotten all about you. What would he want with a silly girl like yourself who can't be grateful for what she was given?"

At least she could say a proper goodbye, though. Perhaps that made it worth it. Perhaps that would allow her to move on.

**(Yes, I know Christine is completely clueless. Hence, the title of this chapter.)**


	17. White Angel

**Hey! Just a quick analysis here. Some of you may think Christine is a little too naive about Erik wanting her. Think about it this way, though. If you had never heard of POTO, and I gave you absolutely no insight into Erik's thoughts, you probably wouldn't know just how obsessed he was with her either. That's kind of where Christine is, especially since she won't admit it to herself that Erik is a murderer. Okay, enough of that. Onto the next chapter!**

Raoul held out his hand and slowly helped Christine up into the carriage. It took a second for her to get in, as the lace wings of her angel costume had to be pressed down. At first Christine could not decide what to go as. In town, though, she had seen the beautiful white silk dress, complete with the wings and a silver sequined mask. Raoul had immediately gotten it for her. He himself had just come in a blue military uniform that he owned, still not very enthusiastic about the whole event.

The driver smiled back at the couple and tipped his hat. "Ah, I see you're going to that masquerade ball tonight," he said merrily. "Quite the event, that is." Raoul nodded and Christine just gave him a small smile. Neither were in the mood to talk that night. An anxiety hung in the air around them as the horses began to move forward.

As they made their way to the Opera House, Christine pondered how to best go about finding him. How would she get away from Raoul for a moment? Could she even find her way back to the little room? Even if she got through the mirror, though, there was no way she would find her way through the catacombs and over the lake. Perhaps it was just best to pray for a miracle.

"Are you still looking forward to this, my love?" asked Raoul softly in her ear. "We can always go back."

"No Raoul. I'm looking forward to this very much," she replied distractedly. "Thank you for taking me."

Finally the carriage stopped, and Raoul tipped the driver. Christine looked up at the opera house with a small thrill. It had been so long since she had been there, and she'd almost forgotten how beautiful and majestic it was, especially at night.

They immediately blended in with the hundreds of others going in. Christine looked around in awe at all the exotic costumes, waving to some of the girls that she knew. The whole area had been decorated in silver and gold. Couples were spread out everywhere dancing and socializing, enjoying the anonymity that they had behind their masks. Candles lighted all the stairwells, illuminating the entire room. Just to see the sight made Christine happy that she had come.

"Shall we dance, my dear?" asked Raoul softly. Christine nodded and they began to waltz in time with the music. As she danced, she tried to think of a way to go about getting to the room without Raoul following her closely. With each twirl, she gazed around for the hall that she needed to go down.

After the song ended, Christine put a hand to her forehead and plastered a distressed look onto her face. "Are you all right, Christine?" asked Raoul with concern.

"Yes. I am just a little flushed , I'm afraid. Excuse me while I go to the powder room very quickly. If you'd like you could get me something to drink." Christine felt her face burn with guilt at the lie.

"Of course, my love. Are you sure you do not need any help?" She nodded and quickly walked off with a sigh of relief. Looking around, she tried to find the right corridor that would lead her to her destination.

Amidst all of the glaring lights and masked faces, Christine began to feel dizzy. Taking a deep breath, she tried to think. Where could it possibly be? Finally, she recognized one of the paintings that lay near the entrance to the corridor she had gone down before. With a quick glance around, Christine discreetly made her way down the passage. The hall was filled with giggling ballet girls having their own little party while the one outside was going on. No one noticed Christine as she flew past them in her silver mask.

When the room was within several feet of her, she burst into a slight run, opened the door, and shut it quickly behind her before anyone could see her go in. Realizing that it would be too dark, she opened the door just a crack to let in some light. She had made it! Now came the harder part, though. She turned toward the gigantic mirror and stared directly into it.

"Erik!" she called out softly. There was no response. "Erik!" she said louder. "It is Christine! Are you there?" Still there was no response. She could feel her eyes begin to well up.

Going up to the mirror, Christine began to pound on it with her tiny fists until they were red. Nothing happened. She then proceeded to push her shoulder up against it, still to no avail. How had Erik gotten to her last time? She had been in such a daze that it seemed as if she had just walked through the glass.

Falling to her knees in front of her reflection, Christine began to sob softly into her hands in frustration. She half-hoped he would hear and rush to comfort her. Still there was nothing but the sound of her own cries, echoing in the empty room. She could sense that she was alone.

After several minutes, Christine got back up and wiped her eyes. She knew that it was time for her to leave. Raoul would wonder where she was, and she didn't want to worry him. She had tried, and she had failed. There was nothing more she could do. A strange feeling of devastation overtook her as she looked into the mirror one last time.

Opening the door the rest of the way, she went back out into the hall. Some of the ballet girls gave her looks of surprise as she came out, but Christine quickly ran past them. Her heart felt heavy, and she could feel silent tears stream down her masked cheeks.

She hadn't imagined that she would be this upset. After all, she had known when she came that Erik would probably not be there. Even if he had been, there was really nothing he could do to help her anyway. Now the wedding seemed to loom inevitably in front of her as the next chapter in her life. Christine felt as if her last hope, even if very small, had just been crushed.

As she entered back among the crowds of people, she aimlessly searched for her fiancé. She just wanted to go home now and try to accept her future, to find some happiness in it. Turning slowly to the left to look for Raoul, Christine felt herself bump into someone. She looked up and gasped in fright.

Looming above her was an enormous white skull mask, dressed in dark red robes and clothing from head to toe. The face had deep black eye sockets and its mouth was fixed in a morbid grimace. An elaborate red hat with feathers covered its head, and one of the gloved hands held a long sword. It stood out vibrantly among all of the costumes. Other guests gave the disturbing mask nervous glances as they walked by. Christine gazed up at it in awe. "Pardon me, monsieur," she barely squeaked out.

The person inside said nothing and continued to look down at her. As Christine watched in shock, a gloved hand reached down and slowly pulled the sequin mask over her face, letting it fall loosely upon her neck. "Christine," she heard a voice say deep from within.

A chill ran through her. She would have known that voice anywhere.


	18. Red Death

**Okay. I was going to leave you with the cliffy, but I felt nice tonight. **

"Erik!" she said rather loudly back in surprise. There was something extremely menacing about him in the costume, as if the skeleton mask's expression mimicked his own. Christine could feel goose bumps run up and down her arms. They stared at each other for a second.

"Come," he said grabbing her rather forcefully by her arm. "We shall go where there are fewer people." His voice was soft but sharp, and she could sense a tension in the air around him. Still, though, she allowed him to lead her away without a thought.

Suddenly, from behind her, Christine heard someone call her name. Looking back, she saw Raoul on the other side of the room, obviously searching for her frantically through the crowds. Guilt filled her as she saw the distraught expression on his face.

"Oh, it is Raoul!" she gasped, freezing on the stairs. Christine couldn't decide whether to go to him or not, but Erik easily made the decision for her. She felt him give her arm a hard yank forward and heard a low throated growl from deep inside the skull mask. Christine was sure that Raoul had just glimpsed her before she had disappeared up the stairwell.

Erik continued to climb, keeping Christine's arm tightly in his grasp. The steps stretched on for a while, and Christine could soon feel cool night air brush her arms. When they got to the top she looked around and realized that they were outside. On the roof of the opera house!

"Oh!" she said breathlessly, looking out into the starry sky. "It's beautiful." She could see out into all of Paris. An enormous stone statue of Apollo sat illuminated in the moonlight, as if keeping watch over the city. She had never even known the place existed.

After Christine had gazed around for a moment, she turned back to Erik. He had taken off the giant skeleton head to reveal his normally half-masked face. Though she was happy to have the disconcerting mask gone, there was still something troubling about Erik's expression. His eyes seemed to flare at her in the dark as he approached her.

"Christine...why have you come tonight?" he asked coldly, his gaze traveling up and down her frame. Christine found herself to be uncomfortable in his presence.

"I...I just had to see you one last time," she stuttered out, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"One last time before what, my dear?" Erik asked sarcastically. "Before you announced to the entire opera house the identity of your kidnapper? I do not think you said my name loud enough for the people in the back to hear you." Christine stared at him in shock, her eyes nearly welling up with tears. This was not what she had expected.

"Well, before my wedding. It...it will be in three days." She said softly, averting her soft eyes from his piercing ones.

"You are not married yet?" he asked with eerily pleasant surprise. "Well, you certainly are taking your sweet time with it, aren't you?" Erik took a slow step in her direction, a strange smile forming on his face. Christine started to inch away slightly when she heard footsteps flying up the stairs behind her.

"Raoul!" she gasped, before even turning around. Her fiance appeared in the stairwell, his eyes wide with fury and surprise.

"Christine! What in God's name are you doing up here? I have been searching for you for nearly half an hour...fearing for your safety, only to see you climbing up the stairs in the dark with a strange man. Tell me what is going on now!"

Christine winced, as she tried to find a way to explain herself. "Raoul, calm down please. I just needed to talk to...someone. Please leave me for just a moment." She turned around to face him, taking her eyes off of Erik.

"I will not calm down! You will come with me now and explain what on earth you are doing up here!" Raoul reached to grab her arm but stopped when he saw the other man begin to approach him, as if preparing to attack.

For the first time, Raoul stopped to take a look at Christine's dark companion. The man appeared to be dressed in a crimson red costume, completed with a strange white half-mask. He couldn't see the man's expression in the dark, but Raoul _could_ glimpse a set of green eyes glowing at him from under the statue. The Vicomte sensed a danger radiating in the night air, and a chill went down his spine. Suddenly he felt the need to be armed.

"Christine," Raoul began with a cautious tone, not taking his eyes off the masked man. "We...we need to go now." He tried to take her arm again, this time more gently. Christine shook off his grasp, though, unaware at that moment of Raoul's alarm. She took a deep breath.

"Raoul, please give me a moment. I must... No, wait. Do not go....," Christine sighed softly. She walked over to where he stood, a pained look in her eye, and placed a cupped hand on the Vicomte's cheek.

"This is not fair to you anymore, Raoul. I...I must tell you something." She closed her eyes for a second, trying to decide if she was making the right decision. "I...I am not ready to be married in two days. It is...too soon I suppose." Tears began to stream down her cheeks. She paused.

"Perhaps I will be ready within time, but I cannot make you wait any longer. You have already done so much for me as it is." The Vicomte watched her in shock as she slowly removed the sparkling engagement ring from her finger and placed it gently in his hand. "Please try to understand. Give this to someone who is more deserving."

"But...Christine. Why....Have I done something?" He stuttered.

"No, Raoul. I have felt like this for so long," she choked out. " I thought I could forget everything that had happened to me, but my heart pains me every day. It would not be fair to you if I were unhappy all of the time, my love."

"And what of him?" Raoul gasped furiously, motioning towards Erik. "I suppose he has nothing to do with your decision? Who is _he_ anyway?"

"Who _I_ am, Monsieur," began Erik wryly from the shadows, "is really none of your concern." Christine turned to look at Erik and gasped.

Within a second he had moved from his spot beneath the statue to within inches of her. His eyes glowed like flames, and a fire seemed to emanate from the spot where he stood. A strange grin crossed his lips that she had never seen grace his face before, and he stared down at her now with desire, perhaps a twisted form of adoration.

"And now Monsieur," continued Erik, as he circled closely around them, "it appears that Mademoiselle _Daae_ is none of your concern either."

Christine started to take a step backwards as Erik approached her, shivering under his gaze. Warnings fired off rapidly in her mind, and she instinctively raised up her arms to protect herself. Before she knew what was happening, she felt Erik's powerful arms fold possessively around her tiny waste. She gasped in shock, too stunned to put up any resistance.

The Vicomte only watched in horror as Erik turned towards him with a steely glare. "Unless you wish me to put you out of your misery, boy, stay away from my opera house!"

Then, with Christine tightly in his grasp, Erik disappeared into the blackness of the night. She could only watch as she was carried off...away from the moonlight, away from the gaze of Apollo, away from Raoul's expression of terror and down into a long void of darkness.

In giving back the ring that night, she had only meant to free herself from Raoul. As the world flew by her in shadows, Christine realized with astonishment that she had also inadvertently given herself to Erik.

**(For your pleasure, you will get to see Erik's point of view of it in the next chapter. But make no mistake people! This is not the end! Much has yet to happen!)**


	19. Giveth and Taketh Away

**Chapter gets a little more intense here. Nothing too explicit, but just a warning.**

He had planned a grand entrance from the top stairwell, dressed in a dark red robe and a large white skeleton's head, Red Death he called it. He planned to scare them a bit, taunt them, make them know their place. It was the night that he would take control of his opera house again. Just as he had been about to enter, though, he had seen the white angel walk dizzily into the room. Immediately he had felt her presence tingling throughout his body. Her dark brown curls fell in cascades on the side of her face, and her pale skin gleamed in the lights. It couldn't be...

With haste, he abandoned his plan and quickly marched through a different entry, pushing his way through the mobs of people. As he walked toward the girl through the crowd, she had bumped into him, her tiny mouth pursed in distress.

To be sure he was not hallucinating, he had removed the sequined mask. It was Christine. Millions of feelings raged through his body and mind as he gazed down at her face, a part of him in ecstacy to see her, another part of him furious at her for putting him through those lasts months of hell. He had wanted to take her right then, just disappear with her beneath the earth. He saw, though, that she donned a new ring. Wedding or engagement, he did not know.

To his ire, she had called out his name loudly in the middle of the room upon recognizing his voice. Did she mean to out him in front of the entire room? Had her conscience finally gotten the better of her? Well, he would not let her go so easily. He dragged her upstairs and onto the roof, where no one could see them.

Christine had seemed so timid in her little white angel costume, staring up at him with her curious brown eyes. She didn't understand why he was so angry with her. Only now could he realize how innocent she had really been. She could know nothing of how he desired her, what he was capable of. Poor, naive Christine.

When she had told him that she was not married yet, it had sparked a flame in him. But what game what she playing? _Did she wish to invite him to her wedding? _Or...was she trying to tell him something else? Before he had found out more, the boy had rushed up onto the roof in a rage. The expression on the Vicomte's face was one for the ages. He had almost laughed out loud at the spectacle.

It was at this point that Erik decided to stand back and see if the situation played out in his favor. If not, he was free to take her at any time he wished. From the shadow of the statue, he watched with exhilaration as Christine told the boy that she did not wish to marry him yet. He could not believe his ears. Those words were more sweet than any song he had ever heard her sing. It took all of his waning restraint to hold himself back from her for another second, yet now he was glad that he had.

Christine had then proceeded to give the foolish boy back her new engagement ring, the Vicomte just stuttering and staring at her pathetically. Erik had felt a dangerous surge of energy run through him. Not only was she unmarried...untouched. Christine Daae was now unengaged! Had he been a religious man and not had the fires of hell raging through him at that moment, Erik would have gotten down on his knees and thanked God.

She was his.

The boy, nearly in tears, had asked Christine who_ he_ was. "Your end, boy," Erik had thought. He had even momentarily considered killing the Vicomte right there, eliminating the threat of him ever returning. He did not want Christine to fly into hysterics, though...not when there was no reason for it now.

Erik chose to take her then. If the boy interfered, he could be dealt with later.

Now he had her back down here with him, this time with no thoughts of giving her back. As he set her down on a divan in his lair, she looked up at him with a degree of uncertainty. Christine was breathing rapidly and shaking, a part of her still back upon the roof somewhere.

Oh, how gorgeous she was laying there, her hair tousled slightly and her big brown eyes gazing at him in confusion. Erik looked in himself for the calm he had possessed months ago. Taking a deep breath, he sat next to her, laying a hand on her flushed cheek.

"Erik," she began softly, looking at the ground. "What...what are you doing?" He just continued to watch her for a second.

"You shall stay here, tonight," he finally said. "Your room is still ready for you."

"But Erik...no one knows I am gone. Why have you brought me back here?"

"Why did you come back _her_e, Christine?" He asked sharply, looking her straight in the eye.

Christine just sat there for a moment, glancing down at her empty fingers. "I...I had to see you again. I...I was going to tell you goodbye before my wedding..."

"Well, my dear, it seems as though that plan did not work out very well," Erik replied softly. Christine just shook her head, still in shock, allowing him to continually stroke her face.

He sighed, realizing again how innocent she still really was. Did she not know what a vulnerable position she was in? Did she really trust him? A monster? A murderer? Of course, she didn't know he was a monster. Perhaps she had denied it to herself that he was a murderer.

"I am going to change out of my costume now," she said sleepily, a dazed look still in her eyes.

"Yes. Those lovely wings do seem rather uncomfortable looking." He watched her walk out of the room with longing. Now that he had her here, he wasn't quite sure what to do. He certainly did not want to destroy her.

After many minutes, Christine had still not returned. Sighing, he got up and went to her room. The door was slightly ajar, and he cautiously opened it the rest of the way. She had fallen asleep on the top of the bed, still wearing the soft white dress. The wings and mask lay in a heap on the floor.

He stared down at her. Her soft figure outlined in the dress, her long eye lashes fluttering in her sleep, her face still slightly flushed. She had her arms placed limply at her sides, and her lips were slightly parted as she calmly breathed in and out. He could have looked all day at her...his angel...his Aminta. Yes, she could star in his opera now as Aminta.

Stirring, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. There was a slight fear in them, but also a slight glow. Not being able to take the absence of her touch anymore, Erik bent down and softly kissed her parted red lips. Her eyes were startled at first, and she gasped slightly. Though she didn't join him, she did allow it to continue, arms still limply at her sides. After several long seconds, he broke the kiss and stepped back, recovering his self-control. "Good night, angel," he said, leaving the room. She just stared at the door, not quite believing that the last several hours had occurred.

* * *

It took Christine a moment to remember where she was when she awoke. It took another several minutes to remember all that had happened. Her mind spun with the memories of last night: the masked ball, the roof, Raoul, being whisked away,...the kiss. Good lord! For a moment, Christine panicked and wondered if she was in any danger there. 

She hadn't planned it this way when she returned to see Erik. She pictured a gentle conversation with her angel as he helped her to understand her feelings, perhaps at most a walk in the moonlight. Never did she think he would take her away to spend the night back down there. Then again, never had she planned to break her engagement to Raoul that night.

Slowly Christine got up from the bed. She saw that her wings and mask had been placed neatly on the dresser and smiled at the thoughtfulness. Perhaps things would become clearer today.

Sighing, Christine opened her door and cautiously looked out. She saw no one and proceeded forward. Erik appeared out of nowhere on her right. "Erik!" she said surprised. "Good morning." It felt odd to make such a seemingly normal statement after all that had happened.

He looked at her. Though his expression had softened greatly since before, there was still a strange fury in his eyes. This man did not seem to be quite the same person she had left on stage that amazing night. "Good morning, Christine. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. That bed is always so comfortable." She shifted nervously under is continuous gaze.

"Very good then. You may have breakfast now." She sat down at the table, remembering the first time he had made her something to eat. How distant that now seemed. Erik set down a wide variety of pastries and meats in front of her, allowing her to take her pick. Christine chose a muffin of some kind and a small piece of ham. Frankly she wasn't that hungry, as her stomach felt like it was tied in a knot. For a while, Erik watched her while she ate. Soon, though, he sighed and went to play his organ.

While nibbling at her food, she listened to him play. The music sounded even darker than she remembered it, yet it was almost pleasing to her ears now as she had become used to the menacing chords. After a moment Christine got up and went to her usual spot next to the organ. He continued without looking up at her. She lost herself in the music for a while as she used to love to do, her heart throbbing in time with it and her muscles becoming tense. When the piece was over, Erik turned to look at her. She had a dazed looked in her eye and a small smile on her mouth. It was too much for him.

With a growl, he bounded from the organ seat and quickly came over to where she was, grabbing her head between his hands. He kissed her long and hard on the lips, gasping desperately into her mouth, her brown curls between his fingers. Christine returned it this time, also placing her hands on the side of his face, opening her mouth slightly. Their lips moved over each others in rapid motion, as they threaded their hands through each other's hair.

In that heated moment, Christine forgot something. She forgot she was supposed to be ignorant of what lay behind the mask. To her, the white porcelain was just an inconvenience in the way of his face. As she kissed him, her hands furiously worked their way over to where the mask first touched the corner of his mouth. Mindlessly, she flung if off with the back of her hand and onto the floor, still continuing to kiss his disfigured lips. Only when Erik roughly pushed her away and let out a scream of anguish into her ear did Christine realize what she had done.

For a second, Erik desperately attempted to cover that side of his face. Then he loomed over her, eyes wild, hands shaking in rage.

Christine lay there, eyes wide, attempting to tell him that she already knew...that she had returned to him knowing. All she could do, though, was stare up at him in surprise and try to choke out the words. Erik took her reaction for disgust and horror, and feelings of self-loathing and shame began to engulf his mind. His eyes burned with fury at her. Let her see the monster if she must!

As Christine rapidly tried to sit up and compose herself, her head bumped roughly against the side of the chair. Pain throbbed throughout her skull. From the injury and from the exhaustion of the previous night, Christine Daae felt herself become light-headed, the dark room spinning around her. As Erik watched in pure devastation, she fainted onto the carpet, the last noise she heard being his loud tormented cries.


	20. Murderer!

**Okay...don't kill me after this chapter. I promise things will get happier in the next chapter....**

After recovering from Christine's untimely departure on the roof, the Vicomte had scrambled down the stairs frantically. He had at first considered going to the managers again but remembered how the last scenario had played out. "This time," he thought, "I am taking it directly to the police." Now he again found himself in an office, trying to make sense of a mad- man and a disappearing fiancee.

"Let me see if I have this correct, Monsieur. A man in a white mask and a red robe kidnaped your fiancee from the roof of the opera house?! Are you sure of this?" Inspector Belmonte started to give the Vicomte a skeptical look until he saw the distress in the young man's eyes. The inspector then began to scan reports that detailed Christine's previous kidnaping.

"Yes, inspector. I am quite sure of what I saw," replied Raoul bitterly.

"Well, normally I would think your story to be farfetched; however, considering the recent events in your life, it appears that someone has taken an unwholesome interest in your fiancee. Can you give me any more information? A name perhaps?" Raoul started to shake his head before pausing. What had Christine uttered that night after the opera? It had been a name. It had started with an E.

"You may try, though I am not positive, the name Erik."

"Erik?" asked the officer, quickly scribbling it down.

"Yes," replied Raoul. "As I said, I am not positive."

"Well, we have no criminal record of a man with that name in this area. There have, however, been recent events at the opera house that have aroused suspicions. You are familiar with them?"

"Yes," answered Raoul wearily. "The death of a police officer, notes demanding large sums of money, a plethora of strange accidents? Yes, I am aware."

"Are you aware of the most recent note received by the managers?" Raoul sat up straighter.

"No, Monsieur, I am not. May I see it?"

"I do not have it with me; however it is a demand by the ghost that the opera house performs an opera he has composed. Though it is not clear what this may have to do with your fiancee, we can only hope to assume that the two events are connected in some way." Raoul sighed and covered his face with his hands.

"This has not made sense from day one! Who the hell is this man!?"

"I am not sure, Monsieur, but I think our best bet is to keep an eye on the premises. Something tells me that your fiancée and her abductor are probably much closer than we think, possibly still very near the opera house. I shall send armed guards to keep watch over that area and will alert you should anything come up. This man, whoever he is, is very adept at covering his trail."

"I appreciate your help, Monsieur. I pray that my fiancee will be returned to me safely. I also hope that her kidnapper is brought to swift justice."

The two men shook hands, and the Vicomte left the building, a scowl on his face.

Inspector Belmonte began the process of calling up enough guards to circumvent the entire opera house. They would need all the help they could get to catch this murderous extortioner.

* * *

Christine awoke to find herself still laying on the cold floor of the cavern. As the events of earlier returned to her, she felt herself tense in distress. Looking around she saw no trace of Erik. 

Oh, why couldn't she have just told him that she knew? Perhaps if he had given her a chance...

Raising herself up, she felt her head begin to pound in pain. After a moment it subsided, and Christine shakily stood, unsure of what to do next. A part of her wished to immediately find Erik and explain to him that she had known. Another part wished for some time alone to sort out the thoughts in her throbbing mind. Christine looked around, noticing that the one room in the back was closed....the one he had told her to stay out of from the beginning. She certainly wasn't about to go into there to search for him.

Pacing around the cavern, Christine debated over what to do and worried about what would happen the next time he confronted her. She had not forgotten Erik's threat following the first time she had tried to remove his mask. Surely he would not keep her prisoner now, though. The thought made her heart pound rapidly.

After walking around aimlessly for a while, she sauntered down to the water and gazed down at her glimmering reflection. The boat rocked softly next to her, and she idly touched her toe out to it, wondering just exactly how difficult it was to row through the catacombs should she ever need to.

"Thinking of going somewhere, dear?" she heard his voice from behind her. Christine gasped and spun around. He glared at her, his eyes wrought with both pain and desire and a sneer plastered on to his now masked face.

"Erik, no, I..."

"I suppose you had to find out sometime," he rasped quietly, approaching her. "A pity, though, that it was so soon. They say ignorance is quite blissful." He loomed over her now, cornering her at the water's edge.

"Now you want to go back to your Vicomte, don't you my dear? You had no idea you chose a hideous demon over him, did you? I suppose you think I will calmly row you to the shore so that you can run into his arms in tears." His voice taunted her, growing in volume.

"Yes, you can tell him about the horrible monster that lives down below. Perhaps beg him to take you back. Oh, Christine... Would you get on your knees and beg to him?" Her face flushed to a crimson color. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as she hovered below him.

"Well, my dear, you have already given away your ring. I am afraid that makes you mine. You shall never leave unless I am right...by....your...side!" He spit the last words into her face before slowly backing away. Christine stared at him in terror, her fingernails digging into her palms.

As he left the room, he gave her a bitter leer. "I suppose we are even now, though, aren't we dear, seeing as how I demasked you last night. Do not worry, though. I will always give you the option of keeping my mask on!"

Christine flew into her room, sobbing violently into her hands. Why couldn't she just tell him? Suddenly she was furious, though. No! He did not deserve to know! He had never even given her a chance to say anything!

She felt so ashamed. Never had she kissed someone so passionately before in her life, only to be screamed at and humiliated. Now she was alone, and there was no one alive who cared. She was a prisoner, trapped at the mercy of someone she thought she had known.

Could this be the same man? He who had led her voice to greatness, who had taken her on a walk in the moonlight, held her hand so gently? How could this angry, tormented, insane man be the Erik she knew?

No, though.... It was time to stop being naive. It was time to face reality. Seeing the terrifying rage in his eyes that day, Christine knew that Erik had murdered that man at the opera. It was he who had imprinted that grotesque memory of the swinging corpse into her mind. There was no denying it now. She was trapped underground with a murderer!

What would he do to her? Oh God. Raoul! Raoul saw what had happened! Perhaps he would be able to find her somehow. Surely he had gone for help. But...what if Erik killed him!? Christine flung her head onto the pillow, sobs shaking her body. When she could not cry anymore, she closed her eyes tightly and folded herself into a fetal position, trying to pretend she was somewhere else. What was her best memory? Aaah yes. Back with her father...a little girl listening to fairy tails. Before his death, before engagements, before Angels, before darkness; when there was nothing but sweet innocence....


	21. Winter Wanderers

Pure self-loathing filled him as he heard her anguished sobs coming from inside the bedroom. Everything had been exactly how he had imagined it would be, her within his arms. Then she had to become curious. Now that she had seen, nothing would ever be the same.

He regretted yelling at her now, saying such cruel words to her. When he saw her going to the boat, though, he could not take it. She was plotting her escape from this black hell and the monster that lay within it. Never again would she wish to feel his touch, kiss his hideous lips. She was likely disgusted with herself for ever letting him come near her.

A pained rage filled him again. Whether she knew what lay behind the mask or not, she was his! She would have to learn to see beyond his face. If she did not, she would spend her life in misery!

Still, though, he wished desperately for her cries to stop, as each one was beginning to kill him. Slowly, Erik got up and walked to the door. He knocked softly, and the sobbing stopped. "Yes?" came a tear choked response.

"Christine..." he didn't know what to say. "Christine. If you come out, I will play for you." It was all he had to offer her at that moment.

To his relief she slowly opened her door. In her pained eyes, though, he saw that she only did it out of fear of him. Oh God, she thought he was a monster! How he hated himself then! His hands shaking, Erik placed his slender fingers on the organ keys and began to play. Not Don Juan. He played a softer, soothing melody that he had learned in his younger days, when he had been trying to forget the horrors of his past.

Christine sat down and felt her heart begin to calm some. Drifting into the music, she choked back her sobs and tried to place herself somewhere peaceful. Erik continued the melody for a long time, concentrating on each note, pretending that the last few hours had never occurred.

When Erik finally felt that he could play no longer, he stopped and looked up at her. Christine's eyes were closed tightly, and her cheeks were damp with tears. Slowly, Erik reached out a hand to stroke her face, to demonstrate to her that he would never harm her. As he extended his arm, she opened her eyes and quickly shrank back from him, her expression pleading for mercy of any kind.

"Christine!" gasped Erik, as he realized he was slowly destroying her. He could not stand the way that she stared at him, like the disgusting thing that he was. Rapidly, he turned back around to his organ, placing his head into his hands. A sob racked his body.

Christine's own tears ceased as she watched Erik in awe, her head aching with confusion and exhaustion. How this man puzzled her! Sometimes he was so warm and strong, and she believed that she had loved him. Other times he was raging and on the brink of insanity, to the point where she thought he may kill her in cold blood. Now, he cried weakly into his hands, like a child in need of its mother. Something inside told her that he would never hurt her. Perhaps he could bring the rest of the world to its knees had he wanted to, but he would never harm her.

Christine got up slowly and laid a hand atop his shoulder. For a second he tensed. Then, Erik rapidly turned around and pulled her to him, crying into the warm folds of her dress. She just stood there, eyes wide.

They stayed like that for several minutes, until Christine finally spoke softly. "Erik...what do you want of me?" He said nothing, just continuing to lean against her. Not knowing what to do, she leaned down and softly kissed his hair, hoping to bring him at least some peace.

He looked up at her, and Christine stared down into his eyes for a moment, trying to find some semblance of the powerful man that had helped her to achieve her dream. All she could see in those green orbs was her reflection, and it was then that she realized just how much he wanted her. She had brought him to this! God, she felt so stupid.

"Christine..." began Erik somewhat desperately, looking up at her. "I could make you so happy. I would do anything for you, if you would let me."

She just watched him as he grasped onto her skirt, a part of her wishing to comfort him, another part still afraid. No one had ever displayed so much before her. The only time she had seen Raoul cry was upon receiving news of his grandfather's death, and it was only a few solitary tears.

Christine realized then that she needed to see someone if she was ever going to make sense of any of this. "Erik...I wish you to take me somewhere." He stared at her, waiting.

"I wish to visit my father's grave in Perros. It is very necessary that I go." She held her breath to see if he would agree. Erik was silent for a moment.

"Very well. I will take you when it is darker. You...you will not attempt to run?"

She sighed. "No, Erik. I will not run. I just wish to see my father." He nodded, still holding on to her. Christine released herself from his grasp and returned to her room.

* * *

In the darkness of the evening, Erik and Christine retrieved a carriage and began the journey to Perros. A snow had begun to fall around them, covering the trees in a soft white blanket. The fog that surrounded them made it difficult to see far ahead. 

They rode silently into the night, not looking at one another. Christine held a bouquet of red roses in her hand that Erik had found for her. She stared out the window at the swirling snow, feeling the cold wind brush her face, many a thought pouring through her head. Erik just faced forward, carefully guiding the horses along the path. Finally they stopped in a graveyard, the fog settling around the headstones thickly. Erik helped her down from the carriage, and she walked straight ahead to an enormous grave with a stone angel sitting atop of it. On the front, the words "Charles Daae" were engraved. Erik stood back as she knelt in front of it, silent tears coming from her eyes.

"Father," she whispered softly, as she knelt down into the snow. "I am so confused. Everything seems right sometimes, and then it is not. Please guide me. I need a real Angel, father." She lay her head against the cold stone for a while, waiting for a sign of some kind, her mind engulfed with memories of the past. Suddenly the winter wind came up and the snow swirled around her, whisking one of the red roses from her hand and out of her reach. After floating adrift for a while, the rose finally landed on the ground... at Erik's feet. He carefully picked it up to give back to her.

She looked up with surprise and gave him a meek smile. "You may keep it, Erik," she said softly. After paying her respects, Christine got up off the freezing ground and strode back towards him, her heels crunching softly in the snow.

As they walked back toward the carriage in the quiet of the evening, Christine decided that now would be the best time to tell him. He had done something tremendous for her after all.

"Erik," she began slowly, eyes forward. "Today...today was not the first time I had seen your face." He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, eyes wide with shock.

"I...I saw it the night before _Il Muto_. You had removed your mask, and I watched you from my room. It...it was an accident." Erik just stared at her with his mouth slightly agape, unable to speak. She continued to walk forward, her blue dress blowing softly in the wind as the white snow flakes dusted her brown hair.

"And...and you came back..." he finally choked out.

She turned back to him, a sad smile on her face, and nodded.

He watched her continue on through the snow, looking more beautiful than she ever had before. Every part of him wished to grasp onto her for dear life. No, though. Her arms were tightly folded, and there was a deep pain within her brown eyes. He could not hurt her any more that cold January day.


	22. Are you Happy Here?

**I'd just like to once again thank you all for your support of this story. Your reviews have been wonderful, and I'm extremely happy that so many people are enjoying it, especially because it's a complete restructuring of the plot. **

**Here's one more semi-fluffy chapter devoted to the relationship. The next chapter will enter into the larger plot, as I know everyone's anxious for Don Juan. Thanks for reading!**

**Note: For some reason the page breaker isn't working. If it doesn't work this next upload, I highlighted the first word of the sentence where the scene changes. Sorry!**

Christine sat atop her bed, skimming the pages of one of Erik's many books. Her mind was too occupied to concentrate on the words, and she found herself continuously reading the same sentence over. Several days had passed after the visit to the graveyard, and she had remained down below with Erik since that time. They had stayed fairly cordial with each other, only making small conversation, throwing each other nervous glances.

Despite her revelation, Erik was still adjusting to the fact that she knew what lay behind the mask. He felt exposed, more vulnerable...less than human. It was still beyond his comprehension that she had returned his kiss that night, knowing of the horror that lay beneath. After everything, he kept himself at a distance from her, still not quite believing that Christine wished him to be near to her.

Though Christine had felt herself soften since that terrible day, it remained that she was a prisoner. It also remained that Erik had revealed a side to himself that she had previously chosen to ignore, a dark and cruel side that was capable of murder. Still, though, she kept the memories of the many kind things he had done for her close to her heart and felt a warmth inside when she thought of him. In all her confusion, she attempted to hold back her emotions, not wanting to make any decisions until she could make them of her own free will.

From outside the room, she could hear Erik begin to compose again, the organ loudly ringing into the air. She could tell by the piece's raging melody that it must have been from _Don Juan_, though this song was somewhat different from the others. It was less angry and more passionate, almost a sort of twisted ballad. Feeling her body tremor, Christine tossed the book aside and left her room to look at the title of the strange piece. The top sheet of music was labeled "The Point of No Return," and it contained many lines of lyrics, appearing to be a duet. After a moment, Christine began to quietly sing with it.

"In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses..."

Erik's deep laughter interrupted her. "What?" asked Christine, slightly offended. "Do I really sound that terrible?"

"No, my dear," he replied with a small smirk. "You sound wonderful; however, you are singing the male part of the duet." Christine blushed and smiled a little.

"Oh." She looked down at her feet. "That is a lovely piece. What is it about?"

"I do not think that lovely is the way to describe it. As to what it is about...it is better sung than told." He seemed distracted for a moment, quietly looking over his work. "I have written_ Don Juan Triumphant _to be performed at the opera house soon. At first I was not going to display it before the public, but...circumstances have changed."

"How shall you get them to perform your opera?" asked Christine, puzzledly.

Erik winced slightly. "As you have already witnessed, Christine, I...have a certain amount of power here. They will comply." Christine sighed, realizing she was glimpsing his darker side once again. He continued after another moment. "There will only be one showing of my _Don Juan_, and it is my intent for you to play the lead roll, Christine. You shall play Aminta."

Christine had several question but decided it was best to leave them for later. Erik seemed very hesitant, and she knew that he was not quite ready to tell her everything.

After a moment, Erik began to play the entrancing song again, and she softly laid her hand onto his shoulder. Looking down at the music, she began to hum along, immersing herself within the notes. The song was so...fervid, so sensual, that it made chills run throughout her. Despite her vow to remain distant until she was released, Christine found herself sitting down next to Erik at the organ. He tensed but tried to remain calm and aloof so as not to frighten her in any way.

Soon, Christine laid her head against his shoulder. She felt her earlier feelings for him return as the haunting melody drifted around her. Erik turned his neck slightly and slowly inhaled the rosy fragrance of her brown curls, before cautiously kissing her head. Had he ever imagined her approaching _him_? Yes, but it was always with the certainty that she did not know what lay behind the mask. Never did he imagine that once she saw his face, she would stay within twenty feet of him, at least...not of her own will.

For a while they remained liked that, Christine continuing to hum softly. His playing became slightly choppy, and he would occasionally strike the wrong chord, but for once his imperfections did not bother him. Soon her eyes closed and her humming faded off as she continued to lean against him. Erik thought she had fallen asleep and contentedly continued to play on, not daring to get up and ruin that precious moment. Out of nowhere, he felt her suddenly give his lower unmasked cheek a soft kiss. His hand fumbled onto the completely wrong chord, sending a blast of disharmony into the air. Christine giggled, her eyes still closed.

He froze, wondering if she wished him to return the affection, not wanting to scare her with his touch. Cautiously, he planted a kiss onto her cheek, and she just continued to gently smile. Taking a deep breath, Erik proceeded to lay quick kisses down her soft face, finally pausing at her lips. Here he stopped to give her a slower passionate kiss. To his relief, she returned it, rubbing her red lips over and against his, eyes still closed. The motion was slightly awkward, as the porcelain got in the way, but he was still not ready to voluntarily reveal his face to her. He felt her arms reach around his thin shoulders, and her fingers moving softly around the edge of his shirt neckline and onto his back.

As Christine felt along his skin, she could feel rough patches against her fingertips. They were long and thin blemishes, scars it seemed. He sensed her wandering fingers and drew back with a slight gasp.

"What is it, Erik?" she asked, opening her eyes in surprise.

"Nothing...I am sorry."

"For what?" She looked up at him with confusion and a little hurt. He just stared at her with longing.

Christine did not know what she had just given him in those moments. She had initiated the contact, confirming that she wished to feel his touch. He had not quite believed her until that moment. Never in his life had anyone given him such vibrant affection. His own mother refused to look at him, much less kiss his cheek. Though he wondered if it was simply his passionate song that had drawn her toward him, it still did not matter. Christine had looked past his deformity, and it was more than anyone had ever done in his miserable life.

"Christine...are you happy here?" He did not look at her.

"I am not unhappy here, Erik, but I wish to go outside into the daylight. I would like to go and come as I please." Christine bit her lip and hoped he wouldn't become angry.

"But if I allowed you to leave, you would come back?" Though a part of Erik was telling him that he was foolish to let her go, he knew that she would begin to wilt if she were kept in the dark forever.

"Yes," she replied resolutely, mustering up some courage. "Erik, I came back to find you the first time. I nearly broke my arm trying to get through that dreadful mirror to see you. But, then, you said such terrible things to me. Then, at the opera....the policeman..." She tapered off, not being able to make the last accusation aloud.

He sighed, knowing she was referring to his brutal crime. It had been done in a rage of passion, yes, but it had still been intentional. Erik had no answer for her so said nothing, and his silence confirmed her fears. "Well, Erik," she said, looking away, "I suppose I shall finish my book." He stopped her, though.

"Christine...I do not...justify my crimes. To tell you I will never commit another one would likely be an outright lie. I shall never harm you, though. My only wish is for you to be happy here. If you wish to go out, then you shall."

"Thank you, Erik," she replied, sensing a great deal of pain in his voice. "I...I am happy here with you." She felt calmer now, knowing that she was no longer a captive. "And Erik?" she said with a sly smile on her face as she noticed the glittering object laying on the table.

"Yes?"

"If you wanted my engagement ring so badly, you really should have asked."

* * *

"**You** are sure you saw them returning to the opera house?" Inspector Belmonte looked directly into the clear blue eyes of the officer. The young man shifted nervously in his chair.

"I saw two figures, a man and a woman, from the distance. They went in through the side of the building somehow, but I was not able to discern where, as the weather was quite terrible that day. By the time I got there, they had disappeared. There was a carriage left outside, though."

"Are you sure it was not just a couple attempting to find some privacy? I am sure there are dozens of men and women doing God knows what back there." The inspector had a slight smirk on his face.

"Well, it could have been," replied the young man, scratching his head. "But it appeared that the man had a sort of object on his face...like the mask you described in the report. Plus, who would be able to get into the opera house from the side?"

"A mask? I always assumed he wore that just for the masquerade ball."

"I am clueless Monsieur. I just know what I saw."

"Thank you officer. You may leave now."

Inspector Belmonte hesitated before getting out a pen and piece of paper. He had known that the couple was close, but he had not imagined them to be actually living there. And why was the girl not attempting to escape if she was that near to the public? What a curious case!

He began to write a letter to order the other officers to stay very near all entrances and exits to the opera house. The inspector also made sure to note to be careful where they aimed their rifles, as the lady could be present. If they did have a clear aim of this man, though, he directed them to shoot with the intention to kill if need be.


	23. The Plan

**This is kind of a long chapter, but I thought it best to dive into it. There will be one chapter after this before Don Juan. Enjoy!**

Whenever Erik knew that Christine was not looking, he would just sit and watch her in blissful disbelief. Could she really be here with him? After knowing everything? Ever since he had verbally freed her, though, she did not appear to be afraid of him. Rather, she seemed truly content to be there.

"Erik," she began, idly laying out on the divan, arms loosely over the sides. "When is your opera to be performed?"

"In a month. We shall start practicing soon."

"But will they not be alarmed when they see me up there? Won't you be in danger? I am afraid I do not understand any of this." There was a long silence, in which Christine watched him expectantly.

"Christine...after the opera is performed, I plan to leave here. It is only a matter of time before they find their way down to my home...searching for the murderous monster. Opera or no opera, it will not be safe for me here much longer."

"And what of me?" she asked somewhat indignantly. "Where do I go?" He was quiet for a moment.

"You will have that decision to make, Christine. Do not make it now, but please tell me when you have." It was an ambiguous answer, but Christine understood what he meant. _Did she dare leave with him forever?_

"I shall," she replied back quietly. Raising herself up, Christine walked up behind him and placed her arms gently around his slender shoulders. He held her hands in his, staring off into the distance. "Erik, I would like to go out for a while today. It has been a long time since I have seen the sunlight." She could feel his shoulders tense under her. Erik had been expecting this at some point, though.

"Perhaps I can take you out a back entrance, where no one will likely be. You will have to keep your head down, however, until you are at a distance from the building." Though somewhat occupied lately, Erik had still attempted to keep up on the affairs of the opera house. He knew that it was being guarded but was unsure of just how many armed men there were.

"You may come, if you would like Erik," she said softly into his ear.

"No, my dear. I do not think it is wise for me to go venturing about in broad daylight." Getting up, Erik retrieved the boat and began to row silently in the dark, the water lashing softly against the sides. As they approached the back wall, Christine could feel a cool breeze brush her neck and knew that they were near the outside. Finally he arrived at the edge and helped her out of the boat. Sliding a panel open, Erik let in several bright rays of sunlight. Christine blinked, not being used to them.

"I shall come back for you in an hour, Christine. Try to stay out of sight for a while." He turned to go, but she roughly grabbed his arm. As he looked back toward her, she kissed him vigorously, and he eagerly returned it, savoring the sweet flavor of her lips against his. Christine then slowly reached up and moved his mask just slightly to the side, revealing a small portion of his malformed face. He gasped but made no move to stop her as she gently stroked the ravaged flesh before laying a long kiss atop it.

Fixing his mask back into place, she slowly pulled back, and he tightly embraced her, feeling almost ill at the thought of her leaving his sight. As she started to depart through the panel, he called to her. "Christine..." She turned and smiled.

"Here is your ring." He carefully placed it onto her finger, before brushing her hand gently with his lips.

"Thank you Erik. I believe that I like it now more than I did before," she said quietly. A part of her almost wished to remain in the shadows at that moment. The rays of sunlight beckoned her, though, and she gave Erik one last quick kiss on the cheek before she left, ignoring the strange feeling of dread that had begun to settle around her.

As Christine stepped out, she drew in a breath of crisp winter air. The sunlight reflected off of the melting snow and sent a glimmer of light around her. She had to admit that she missed the sunshine.

Looking around, she saw that she was in an empty sort of alley near the opera house, apparently used for storage. Old props and sets were stacked up against the wall. She wandered around, admiring some of the faded scenery pieces and allowing the daylight to touch her face. After a while she began to make her way to the front, carefully bringing her scarf close to her nose so as to not be recognized.

Heading toward the front of the opera house, she was shocked to see the number of men in uniform milling about. There had to be at least thirty. Her heart began to pound rapidly, and she began to discreetly make her way to the side, trying to remain as hidden as possible. Several guards noticed her and gave her curious glances. One started to approach her, and Christine began to back up.

As she stepped backward, she felt herself bump into someone. Looking behind her, she saw a short, burly man with a beard dressed in a uniform. "Pardon me, Monsieur," she said softly, stepping away. The man carefully looked her over.

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle. Do you have business here?"

"I...I was just leaving, Monsieur," she stuttered out. "I am a singer at the opera house." The guard took notice of the girl's brown curls and pale complexion, finding them very similar to the descriptions that were so keenly detailed in the kidnaping report.

"Please come with me a moment Mademoiselle. Please remove the scarf from your face as well." Christine started to back up but realized that she would never get through the number of guards that were now starting to wander over to her with interest. Even if she was able to escape, she couldn't lead them back to Erik. Oh God! Why hadn't he told her there were so many men?

"Please Mademoiselle," repeated the officer, becoming more sure that this woman was the one he sought. "You are safe now. Do not worry." He turned to the guards behind him. "Draw your rifles, men. He may be near right now."

Christine gasped in fear that Erik would attempt to get to her at that moment. She realized she had to leave as soon as possible for his safety, even if it meant surrendering for now. Compliantly she reached up and whipped off the scarf from her face, hands shaking. The officer smiled at her kindly. "Let us get you inside, Mademoiselle. Do not worry."

Several guards led her into the front of the opera house where she was immediately met by the two managers.

"Oh thank God!," exclaimed Andre. "You are found...again!" Christine could say nothing, as a feeling of devastation overtook her. She could only watch helplessly as police rushed around her, throwing questions at her rapidly, raising their guns at every suspicious noise. Then, with great weariness, she saw Raoul quickly enter through the front doors. Seeing her, he ran over and threw his arms around her shoulders tightly. Christine did not return the embrace.

"We must get her to the detective's office at once," said another officer running over. "You may visit with her later." With guards surrounding her and Raoul's arm tightly around her shoulders, Christine was reluctantly led out of the opera house. She could only pray that Erik would be safe.

* * *

After Christine had departed from him, Erik had flown to an upper window to make sure that she got past the opera house safely. Now he was bitterly cursing himself as he watched the events below unfold. He had known that the place was guarded but not to that degree. By the time he had seen just how many men there were, Christine had already wandered out to the front...thereby sealing her fate. Someone must have found out that they were in the opera house! 

Erik could feel a deep rage run throughout him and had to hold himself back from dropping down and attempting to kill every last one of them. He knew there were too many, though, and that they all were armed. Christine could easily be hurt in the crossfire. From above, he paced back and forth rapidly, determined to get her back this time no matter what he had to do. She wore the ring. She wanted him, and he would die before he would he let her go.

While he planned, Erik also silently prayed. He prayed that all of her words and touches had been true... that they were not just ploys to escape from him. He prayed that she wanted him just as he so badly wanted her. To the God that he had for so long ignored, Erik prayed.

* * *

Christine sat at the long mahogany table in a daze, wearily gazing at all of the men whose eyes were boring into her. Directly across from her sat Inspector Belmonte, impatiently waiting for her to tell them the details of her capture. On her right was Raoul, gripping her hand tightly and wondering what the old ring was doing back on her finger. The two managers sat several chairs to her left, and the rest of the table consisted of other highly ranked officers. 

"Mademoiselle..." began Inspector Belmonte. "I cannot imagine the trauma that has happened to you, but you really must tell us more about your captor. This man is a murderer, a thief, and an extortionist. Frankly, you are lucky to be alive, my dear." He looked at her intently, taking a sip of water. Christine just shook her head and looked into her hands.

"Christine," began Raoul cautiously. "You must tell us who he is. This man must be stopped! Every hope rests on you now." Christine just gave him a sad look and released her hand from Raoul's tight grasp.

"I do not know anything," she said softly. "There is nothing to tell." She knew that they wouldn't believe her, but she was too exhausted to lie at that moment.

The inspector folded his head into his hands in frustration, wondering why this girl would not talk. "We must find a way to bring this man out into the open, as we will never find him if he is in some dank place beneath the opera house. That building has hundreds of passages and tunnels, and it will take years to search them all."

"Wait a minute.." began Raoul, an idea forming in his mind. "You said he demanded that the opera house perform his opera. Am I correct?" The inspector nodded. "Well, surely he will come to see his own opera performed."

"You are right!" exclaimed the inspector triumphantly, a relieved smile forming on his face. "Plus, he wished Mademoiselle Daae to be in the opera, well commanded her to be actually. If she is in it, he will most certainly come!" At this, Raoul gave him a look of distress.

"I do not think it is wise to put my fiancee in that position again. Can we not get someone else to play the role?" Monsieur Andre cut in here.

"Monsieur, when the opera ghost makes a demand, he means for all his requests to be met. If Christine does not sing, I am sure he will see to it that there is no opera. Many other distresses will likely befall us if this order is not complied with." Raoul sighed, wishing to disconnect himself from the situation entirely.

"Fine, then. She had better be heavily guarded, though. The men had better be fully armed."

"Of course," replied the Inspector. "We will place her safety foremost." The men began to talk over each other, trying to organize the plan. After a moment, Christine finally jumped in, a furious expression on her face.

"What if I refuse!?" she exclaimed. "How dare you put me through this without my consent!"

"Mademoiselle," began the inspector with a sigh, "I do not know if this man has brainwashed you or not, but you are not understanding how dangerous he is. He killed one of the most prominent men on the force. If you disagree to do this or do not give us any help in finding him otherwise, as much as it pains me, I will charge you with aiding and abetting a criminal."

Christine opened her mouth to tell him she did not care if he charged her... that he could throw her into prison then if he wished to. At that moment, though, she realized her performance could be the very thing that saved Erik. Perhaps every hope did rest on her now. Somehow she would find a way to warn him. If she did not get to him soon, she knew it was only a matter of time before he was captured or killed.

"Fine, then," she said bitterly. "I will go along with your plot."

"Wonderful, Mademoiselle. After you have come to your senses, you will see it is for the best." Christine just sat there, desperately wondering what to do next, as the men planned the demise of the Phantom of the Opera.

**Universes converging a bit :)**


	24. Confrontation and Comfort

**Much of the ending of this chapter is taken from Andrew Lloyd Webber's Staged Musical**.

Christine sat silently next to Raoul as the carriage slowly moved along the dirt road. She had not said a word to him since two days before at the inspector's office, only allowing him to take her back to the conservatory where she remained isolated in her room. Now she was on her way to rehearse for _Don Juan _with the rest of the cast, as the opera would be in three weeks. Under normal circumstances, she would have been thrilled to have such an opportunity, but dread only filled her at this moment.

The Vicomte did not know what to make of the entire situation. He was at first angry at Christine for breaking the engagement and then protecting this crazed murderer. Perhaps though, he convinced himself, this man had her under his control somehow. If Erik could bring an entire opera house to its knees, manipulating a naive young woman would be an easy task. A sadness went through him as he realized he was losing his love to some unknown force. Her coldness and lack of response made him feel queasy inside. What had this man done to his Christine? Nothing made sense anymore.

Brushing aside all feelings, Raoul tried to make small conversation with her. "I...I am glad that the snow has finally melted."

"Mmmm," replied Christine, staring out the window.

"There really has been terrible weather this year. Perhaps it is a good thing we have postponed the wedding, as the guests would not have been able to make it." He knew he shouldn't have said the last part, but he had to know if there was any hope left for them.

Christine turned to him sharply. "Raoul! There is no postponement of the wedding. I broke my engagement that night. There shall be no wedding at all! It is best that we each move on as soon as this terrible mess is over."

"Christine, I do not think that you even know what you are saying. This man, whoever he is, has completely taken over your mind. For the love of God, tell me what happened to you down there! Does he hurt you in some way...make you think he is going to kill those that you love if you do not do as he says? Please tell me, Christine. Let me into your life again!" He looked at her with anguish, wishing desperately for the gentle Christine he had proposed to so many months ago.

She looked at him sadly. "Raoul....you cannot understand this. You know nothing of him."

"I know that he is a cold- blooded thieving murderer! I know that he has taken you against your will, and that he has gotten you to believe that you must protect him! Christine, think about what he has done! He has killed! Come to your senses!"

"Stop it, Raoul. Do not speak of him anymore. I..I am done talking to you. Leave me alone." Christine knew that some things Raoul said were true, but somehow she could not bring herself to care. A fire burned within her and all she wanted was to be in Erik's tight embrace.

The Vicomte sighed defeatedly. "Very well, Christine. But no matter what you think, this man shall soon meet his end. I just hope that you do not fall with him. If you ever wish to talk to me, I am still here, and I only pray that you will come out of this darkness."

True to her word, Christine said nothing in response.

When Christine arrived, she was escorted into the opera house and up to the stage by three armed guards. Andre and Firmin stood to the side, keeping watch on things as well. There was a tension throughout the room, as the other performers eyed both Christine and the dozens of policemen milling about. She knew that there was no way she would be able to get to Erik under these circumstances.

"Look at her. She ees scared to death," she heard Carlotta whisper bitterly to a heavy-set man next to her. "She vill never be able to act if she is like zat."

Christine blushed and looked up. Seeing Meg at the side of the stage, she smiled slightly. Meg gave her a little wave, curiosity pouring from her eyes.

"Mademoiselle," began Andre. "I would like to first introduce you to your co-star, Umbaldo Piangi. He shall be playing Don Juan." The heavy set man just nodded at her, an irritated expression on his face. She nodded back. Andre continued.

"Here is a copy of the script. Monsieur Reyer will be your conductor and assist you in learning your part. Good luck." Andre quickly rushed off, muttering under his breath about the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

Monsieur Reyer stepped up. "Ladies and gentleman," he began. "We shall start with the main songs today, and if there is time, we will begin the dialogue. Because we only have several weeks to prepare ourselves, we must do this as quickly as possible. Let us begin immediately."

They began the first song, and Christine found that she learned very quickly. She was so used to hearing Erik play that the notes were very familiar to her. As she finally began to hear the play in its totality, she realized just how dark and passionate it was. "The Point of No Return" marked the scene where Aminta was unknowingly seduced by Don Juan, and Christine began to understand the meaning behind the song.

Many of the cast members were disgusted with the lewdness of the script, and an uneasiness pervaded throughout the entire rehearsal. Carlotta threatened to leave several times, still very jealous over not being the lead role, and Piangi got into a heated argument with Monsieur Reyer over the pronunciation of the words. The female dancers found themselves frequently blushing at the suggestive movements they were required to perform in front of the public. Their male counterparts were in quite a bit of discomfort themselves.

As Christine rehearsed, she kept her eye on the boxes above for Erik but saw nothing. Though she longed to see him, at least he could not get hurt if he stayed out of sight.

Erik _was_ watching the rehearsal, though, from higher up in the rafters. He didn't dare go near the boxes with fifty guns just waiting to fire at him. Over the last few days he had been intently listening to the conversations of the managers as he plotted a way to find Christine. Just recently he had discovered, however, that there was no need to go searching for her. She was to still be in his opera. Though he was relieved at her close proximity, Erik was also disturbed....

A trap of some type was being set, he knew. There was no other reason that they would so willingly perform his opera with Christine in it. Even his threats would not provoke such compliance. What he did not know at that moment was Christine's motive. She could not possibly betray him now, could she? Not after everything. Perhaps they forced her into it somehow.

He sighed as he watched her rehearse. She was the perfect Aminta, and he could just imagine what she would look like in her costume. If only he could get to her somehow, keep her until the opera and then escape with her afterwards, but the heavy-armed force made that impossible. It was likely he would not feel her touch until the night of the opera. Then she would be his again.

Try as he might to fight it, the fear of her betrayal continued to creep into his mind, filling him with the familiar rage. If she did dare cross him, and God how he prayed she would not, he would still make sure she was his, even if it was not by her own _will_.

* * *

Christine continued going to the rehearsal over the next couple of weeks. Raoul silently took her, and armed guards always escorted her inside. The cast was getting better and better each day, very near to what Erik had imagined. Christine thought the opera would look amazing on stage, though many would probably find it extremely disturbing. Costumes had been designed, and she was shocked to find just how low cut her dress was. The scenery was also somewhat erotic, filled with paper flames and dark red colors. 

As the day of the opera approached, worry continued to fill Christine, making her feel almost ill inside. She knew that Erik would attempt to get to her that night, and that both their lives would be risked. Thoughts of terror and death filled her, and she could feel herself slowly breaking down. Three days before the opera, she was forced to stop in the middle of one of her songs and ask for a break. Sighing, Monsieur Reyer allowed her to go.

In the back of the stage, Christine sat with her head in her hands, trying to place the thoughts in her mind together. Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her and rapidly turned around to see Madame Giry. "Oh. I am sorry, Madame," she said. "I will come back now."

"No, Mademoiselle," replied the instructor compassionately. "Please stay where you are." She seemed softer than the stern woman Christine had met so many months ago.

Christine watched her come in. "Yes Madame?" The older woman came into the room, an expression of concern on her face. She then knelt down to where Christine was.

"Christine. I do not know the details of what you are involved with, but I do know more than anyone else. Answer my one question. Do you wish to be with him, or is he holding you against your will somehow?"

It took Christine a moment to realize what Madame Giry was referring to. When she did understand, she froze, her eyes wide. Christine was stunned by the woman's knowledge and worried that she would give Erik away somehow.

Madame Giry smiled. "Do not worry, Mademoiselle. I shall tell no one if you do not wish me to."

Christine felt her heart slow down, and she realized just how badly she needed to talk to someone at that moment. The elderly woman seemed like she could be trusted. "I...I wish to be with him, Madame. God, I love him." She began to softly cry, and the older woman drew her into her arms. Christine sobbed into her shoulder, grateful to finally have someone so calming to lean against.

Christine looked up. "But how do you know of him, Madame?" Madame Giry sighed, a far away look coming into her eyes.

"I suppose you have the right to know, my dear, seeing as how you seem to have touched him so closely." She sighed. "Many years ago a traveling carnival came into the city. It had many different oddities and displays, some fun and some very unpleasant. One such spectacle was called the Living Corpse. There was a man on display, locked within a cage,....I remember when I saw his face for the first time....a skull, almost.'

'They said that he was a prodigy...an architect, a composer. There was even a claim that he had built a maze of mirrors for the Shah of Persia. One day he escaped. It was assumed that he died, but it seems that was not quite the case. I have seen him here...the phantom, and I have acted as a sort of messenger for him I suppose. For a long time, he kept a tight hand on the affairs of the opera house, giving the ballet girls a fright every so often." She smiled slightly. "It was only in these last months that he became so deadly to those around him." The smile faded.

"Christine...you must be careful. I will tell nothing of what you say to anyone. You must know, though, that your future holds many perils."

"Yes, Madame," she said softly. "Thank you for telling me this. I understand more, and it feels wonderful to talk to someone."

"No, Mademoiselle," Madame Giry said softly, her eyes slightly sad. "Thank you. You have done more for him than anyone has. I pray for your safety in these troubling days ahead."

"Thank you so much, Madame. I pray as well."

**I used the script of the staged musical for Erik's past. It indicates that he was older when he came to the opera house and even contains references to Persian travels like in Leroux. I dislike the past given him in the movie where he has lived at the opera house since he was a child. It makes him seem too inexperienced and unworldly. In conclusion, the past from the staged musical is fairly vague....so you can draw your own ideas about where Erik has been, be it Persia....or Honolulu. ****:) (Drools at thought of Erik in swimming trunks)**

**Don Juan will be up sometime tomorrow**!


	25. The Triumph of Don Juan

**I took stuff from both the movie and the play for this scene, hopefully getting it right. All lyrics belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Anyway, here's Don Juan!**

**Okay...This chapter has been redone at the end. Start reading after Raoul demasks Erik. It was kind of bugging me and wasn't going to work out for my ending very well. For those of you who liked the earlier version, I'm sorry. I really am, but it just wasn't sitting well with me...**

Layered red silk curtains decked the stage, casting an eerie crimson glow throughout the room. In the middle, a glimmering paper prop representing fire had been assembled, and torches lit up the faces of all the actors as they readied to perform. The female dancers adjusted their sensual dresses to ensure that they were as decent as possible before the public eye, as the males shifted nervously in the lustful atmosphere.

Christine looked down at her low-cut dress, feeling beautiful and exposed at the same time. Her hands shook nervously as she glided her eyes up throughout the room, searching for some sign of her angel. She knew he would be watching, and it both frightened and excited her.

Guards were stationed throughout the room, hidden in dark corners so as not to worry the audience. Each had a loaded rifle and kept watch intently for any sign of their target. The inspector sat in the middle of the room, keeping a close eye on his surroundings. Finally, Raoul sat at the front, ready to grab Christine should her kidnaper return.

As the audience began to fill in, the guards and their weapons became lost among the many people. The room became crowded with wealthy men and women, curiously eyeing the strange spectacle getting ready to occur on stage. Many were shocked at the sensual costumes and scenery, muttering quietly under their breath.

Christine was fairly oblivious to it all, her only thought at that moment being of Erik. What if she was not able to find him in time? What if they got to him first? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as the conductor prepared to begin. Inside, she knew that the night would end with at least one death. She could only pray that it was not her Angel's.

The play began, and the audience began to awkwardly clap. First the chorus sang.

_Here the sire may serve the dam, here the master takes his meat! Here the sacrificial lamb utters one despairing bleat!_

It sounded full and hypnotic, and a strange aura fell through the room as the opera continued, entrancing all those who were watching. Despite her fears, Christine went through her role confidently, developing fully into her character.

._..Serve the meal and serve the maid! Serve the master so that, when, tables, plans, and maids are laid, Don Juan triumphs once again!_

Now came the scene between Passarino and Don Juan as they planned the seduction of Aminta.

._...You come home! I use your voice-slam the door like crack of doom!_

_I shall say: 'come-hide with me! Where, oh, where? Of course-my room!..._

The scene came early in the play. Don Juan would trick Aminta into bedding with him by pretending to be Passarino. It was also almost time for the song Christine had come to so guiltily enjoy, the_ Point of No Return_.

Aminta sang her last lines before her duet began.

_...no thoughts withing her head, but thoughts of joy! No dreams within her heart, but dreams of love_! She then waited for Don Juan to enter.

In walked Piangi draped in a brown hood and cloak, his face mostly hidden from sight by the cowl. Christine could feel her body tingle as she sat waiting for him to begin, an apple in her hand. She heard him say his last line to Passarino and immediately noticed the change in Piangi's voice. Her heart pounded as he approached her and began to sing.

_You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent, silent..._

He continued the song and as she heard that mesmerizing voice float around her, Christine knew exactly where Erik was. "Oh God," she thought. "Please let no one else know." At least she would be able to get close to him now. As Erik continued, she sat there, desperately trying to think of a plan.

..._what warm unspoken secrets will we learn beyond the point of no return_... Christine swallowed as the female dances approached the stage, signifying that it was her turn to sing.

_You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence_... She got up to go to him, her heart beating rapidly inside of her chest as she sang her lines with all of the passion inside of her. Everything seemed to converge into a giant red glow. All she could concentrate on was Erik, each word she sung was for him.

_Past the point of no return-no going back now: our passion play has now at last, begun... _She slowly walked toward him and he came toward her, as if drawn to each other by an invisible force.

_When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom_... Christine could feel herself become completely one with the song, every part of her body going into it. Chills ran up her spine as she finally met Erik on the stage, and he placed his arms around her body, caressing her. All thoughts of danger faded from her mind as she joined him in the duet, his hands moving slowly up and down her hips. Her heart raced as the song came closer to its end.

As all this was occurring on stage, Raoul had slowly risen from his seat, sensing that something was amiss. He recognized that haunting voice from the rooftop and watched with somewhat shock as his former fiancee vibrantly touched the cloaked figure. Though he told himself it was solely for Christine's safety, the Vicomte intensely wanted to know whom it was that his Christine desired with so much passion. He had to know why she left him...

_Past the point of no return, the final threshold- the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn...We've passed the point of no return..._

Christine and Erik stood there as one on stage as the music ended, and she touched his cool hands as they went over her curves, longing for him in every possible way. She heard him whisper into her ear.

"Will you share with me a lifetime, Christine? Will you lead me from my solitude?" His words awoke her from her trance, and she suddenly remembered the danger that they were in.

"Yes, Erik. I will stay with you forever," she whispered back softly before quickly continuing. "But Erik, it is a trap. We must go now..." She could not get the sentence out, though. Within seconds Raoul had bounded onto the stage, causing Christine to shriek as he pulled away the cowl of Erik's cloak to reveal his masked head. Using his arm, Erik violently slammed the Vicomte away from him, but not before Raoul had gotten a firm grip of the mask. As Raoul went flying across the stage, so did the piece of white porcelain. He landed unconsciously on the other side with a hard thud. Erik now stood in shock, exposed before the entire audience.

Screams of horror were heard throughout the room as everyone took in the skeletal face before them. "It is the phantom!" Christine could hear the managers cry from the back. Immediately the guards began to come out of their corners, rifles in hand and ready. More shrieks could be heard as the audience saw the large cache of weapons that was being brought forward. The room began to fly into a state of chaos.

Erik stood there shaking on stage, infuriated and humiliated. Christine grabbed his arm tightly, arousing him from his shock.

"Erik! We must leave!" she cried. Suddenly a random shot rang into the air, causing screaming throughout the room. She saw the inspector yell at the men to hold their fire, but it was too late for order by that time. Christine heard a bullet whizz very near to her ear and knew that they would both be killed if they stayed there much longer. To her horror, she saw that the guards were beginning to block off all of the exits.

Erik composed himself and looked for a way to escape the guards and their rifles. He knew of a trapdoor that they could go through, but it would take several minutes to open it. There had to be a way to get the guards away from them. Next to the stage, Erik noticed a large mass of ropes leading upward. Gazing up, he saw that they were connected to the massive chandelier hanging above. Grabbing a long knife he kept in the folds of the cloak, Erik blindly began cutting the ropes, causing the chandelier to rattle and sway unsteadily. He knew that the confusion that ensued would give them time to escape.

"Erik!" gasped Christine in horror as the chandelier shook with each cut. He ignored her calls to run, though, knowing that they would never make it that way.

Just as he was about to hack the last thread of rope and send the chandelier plummeting to the ground, a blinding pain seared through the back of his head, sending him reeling to the floor. From somewhere he heard Christine loudly scream in terror.

One of the guards had found his way onto the stage in the chaos and used the butt of his rifle to smack Erik squarely in the skull. It was not enough to make him unconscious, but it was enough to stun him for a brief moment. Now Christine watched in horror as the guard held an injured Erik down and rapidly prepared his gun with the intent of firing a bullet directly into his head.

"Noooo!" Christine screamed in hysterics, trying to futilely pull the guard away. "God! Noooo! Stop! Please!" The guard paid her no heed, pushing her away and continuing to ready his gun. Blindly she looked around for anything that could save them both. Erik had finally come to his senses and was reaching desperately for his knife, which lay inches from his grasp. Christine grabbed it and handed it to him, thinking of nothing but his safety.

In one motion, Erik stabbed the guard deeply into the stomach, sending him bleeding to the ground. As more men began to approach them, Erik took the knife and hacked the last rope of the chandelier. Christine could only watch, praying for their lives and their souls.

An enormous whoosh filled the air as all ropes and chains slipped through their pulleys, followed by a deafening clatter as the heap of metal crashed diagonally to the floor, shaking the entire stage. The room erupted into a giant blaze as the lights exploded, and shards of glass flew in all directions. People screamed, desperately trying to escape the fire, some being trampled under foot. Others became lost within the smoke, blindly trying to find their way out. Random gun shots continued to fly throughout the room while people rushed out in disordered mobs. Most of the guards began to run as well, having no orders given to them whatsoever.

With the guards gone, Erik was able to take several minutes to open the trap door. When he was done, he quickly looked around for Christine in the smoke-filled room and saw her staring blankly at the chaos, mesmerized by the rising flames. She stirred as she felt Erik's arm move tightly around her waist. "Erik..." she whispered softly, her face illuminated by the blaze of the fire.

"Shhh, my love," he said, giving her a long kiss on the neck. "Hold on tightly." Grasping onto Erik's shoulders, Christine vaguely felt the floor go out from underneath her, an eerie peace settling throughout her soul as she fell away from the fire and into the cool darkness below.

**Do NOT feel the need to re-review this chapter! It would be better if you waited till Chapter 26 to voice your opinion!**


	26. The Tepid Ultimatum

**NOTICE: For those of you who did not get the message, chapter 25 was redone. If you have only read the version where Christine brings down the chandelier, then please reread the second half of chapter 25 ,or you will be confused. **

**Feel free to voice all of your opinions about the redo in reviews for this chapter!**

Raoul awoke from where he had landed on the stage just in time to see Erik and Christine disappear beneath the floor. Next to his arm lay the white porcelain mask. The Vicomte's head was swimming with pain and confusion as he tried to recall the events of earlier. Had he really seen that...that face? It looked like that of a rotting corpse. There was no way that Christine could be with that monster by her own will. Good God! He had to get to her!

Jumping up unsteadily, the Vicomte coughed and tried to find his way through the smoke-filled room. Ignoring the chaos and heaps of broken metal, he frantically looked around for help. From a distance he saw the inspector running out of the room. "Inspector Belmonte!" he cried from the stage. "Erik has taken her! We must go!" The inspector looked at him like he was insane.

"Monsieur, if we do not get out now, we will both die. Let the woman go to hell if she must!" At that the inspector flew out, leaving Raoul by himself. He realized that Christine's fate was left solely in his hands now. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the opened trap door and jumped down, praying for his life.

As Raoul went in search of Christine, another group had begun to gather in search of blood. Men from the police force along with some stage hands and opera house workers had gathered together and sought whatever weapons they could find. Many held rifles that the guards had dropped in their panic. They angrily surveyed the death and destruction in the room that had been brought by the opera ghost.

"That is it!" cried a stagehand. "It is time to bring the Phantom to his end! We shall destroy him ourselves!"

"Yes," an officer agreed. "Grab your weapons. We shall search every crevice below until we find him. Then we shall kill him. He shall pay for the blood he has shed! The monster shall pay!" Shouts of agreement could be heard from the rest, and the mob quickly began to make their way to the tunnels below the opera house.

Madame Giry witnessed both the mob's and Raoul's departures. Oh, how wrong everything had gone! She knew that she must find a way to at least give Christine and Erik a little more time to escape. The Vicomte by himself posed little threat, so Madame Giry took off after the mob. Waving her arms, she cried out to them, "I saw them go this way! Hurry! This way!" Blindly the mob took off in the indicated direction. Madame Giry knew that the detour would buy them about an hour. She sighed and prayed for the enamored couple's safety.

* * *

After Erik and Christine had landed below, they rushed quickly through the dark caves, his cold hand gripping her warm one tightly. Finally they arrived at the boat and climbed into it. Erik rowed the oar rapidly through the water, causing the boat to tremble slightly, and Christine gripped tightly to the sides, still in somewhat of a state of shock. Neither said a word to each other as they frantically headed for Erik's lair. It was only very late in the journey when Erik remembered, with great dismay, that he did not even have his mask on. He attempted to keep his disfigured profile out of her sight. 

Finally they reached their destination, the boat bumping roughly against the side of the land. Erik climbed ashore and held his hand out to Christine. She gratefully took it and unsteadily stood up next to him, trying to catch her breath. Slowly, she raised her eyes up to his and lost herself in their glow, forgetting her terror, if only for a moment. With a growl of desire, Erik grabbed her into his arms and kissed her forcefully, paying no heed to the fact that his entire face was on display. She desperately returned the affection, grasping his lips with hers, thrusting her tongue just ever so slightly now that there was no porcelain barrier. Her arms clung to his shoulders tightly, as if she was afraid he would leave her again. He trailed his hands over her shoulders, down her sides, and finally grabbed her hips, forcing her warm body closer to his. When the kiss was finally broken, she leaned against him in exhaustion, and he wrapped his arms around her back so she would not fall to the ground.

"We must leave now, Christine," he whispered, continuing to lay kisses in her hair, savoring her every touch. "They will soon come down, and we will both meet our ends if we stay." She nodded and withdrew from him, still shaking. "Grab what you wish to from your room. After the mob has come, we shall return for what is left. Then we shall leave this place permanently."

Christine rushed away and began pulling her best dresses out of the closet frantically. She also took some of the trinkets in the room that she had come to adore and folded them within the clothing for safe keeping. Last she grabbed the funny music box with the monkey and placed it neatly on top. Her heart pounded rapidly in fear of what was to come. All she could do was put her full trust in Erik at that moment.

As she exited the room, she heard water sloshing around from back near the lair's entrance. Worried that Erik was going somewhere, she dropped what she was carrying and ran to find him. Turning the corner to where a gated entrance lay, she found herself face to face with her former fiancé.

"Raoul!" she gasped, fear enveloping her eyes. "What are you doing here? How did you get here? Oh, he is so angry with you...He will kill you, Raoul. You must leave now!"

"No, Christine!" he said, sloshing through the water. "I chased you down here to save you from that monster. Do not feel that there is no way out Christine. You do not have to throw your life away. Leave this hell! He has completely turned you against everything you love."

"No Raoul! I wish to be with him! Please understand! I love him, Raoul...by my own will. You must leave! Hurry!"

"Christine, he is a murderer.." he began.

"And tonight I have aided him in his crimes," she said softly. "Please Raoul...go...before you are hurt." Raoul reached out his hand to her.

"Please come with me, Christine.." Raoul began again.

"Come _with_ me, Christine?" Both turned around to see Erik watching them, an eerie grin on his face. "Well, this is a delight!" he hissed. "Have you come to return something to me, Monsieur? I do not know why you felt the need for my mask, boy, seeing as you have such perfect features. After several days of rotting underground, though, you shall need it." Erik approached him slowly. Christine shivered as she watched the darker side of Erik return. How different he had seemed moments ago, caressing her so gently. She had almost forgotten...

"Let her go!" screamed Raoul frantically, banging on the gate "You monster! Let her go now!"

"Let her go? Boy, if you have not noticed she wishes to be with me. She is not my prisoner. Did she not make it clear enough to you on the roof? I am afraid you shall die today for no reason at all, certainly not for her love."

"You have brainwashed her, you monster!" shouted the Vicomte. "You have turned her against all that is good! Let me see her now!" He shook the gate with his hands, wishing that he'd brought a weapon of some kind. Everything had happened so quickly, though. Erik just continued to approach him, a sneer on his lips.

"My Monsieur!" said Erik with a cruel laugh. "Such anger for a young man!"

"Erik, please!" exclaimed Christine. "Just let him go! Raoul, go now!"

Erik turned toward her, rage even more distorting his unmasked face. "Let him go? After he revealed my handsome face to all of Paris, nearly got both of us killed, and then came to my home with the intent of taking what is mine? Let him go? I am afraid I shall not be able to meet that request, my dear." In an instant, Erik grabbed the Vicomte by the shirt and pulled his head through the bars of the gate. Raoul felt something tight clutch his neck, and he let out a cry of surprise and pain. Frantically he clawed at the noose, trying to take in any breath of air that he could.

Christine cried out in horror as Erik tightened the rope that held the Vicomte. "Please, Erik! Please let him go! For the love of God, do not kill him!" Her voice had become hoarse from her screams.

Raoul gazed up at her helplessly, still choking. "Christine...I thought...I wanted to save you from this...please...whatever happens...get out of here.." he gasped.

She bent down to him and touched his sweating brow. "Raoul...you cannot understand what I do today. Even I do not completely understand it. Perhaps I am mad, but I am in love. Leave me. You will always hold a place in my heart." At Christine's kind words and gentle touches, Erik grew even angrier. Instinctively he drew the rope tighter, causing Raoul to cry out louder.

"Your _friend_ shall only get in our way, Christine. It is best that he permanently disappears now. I will not have him ruining what I have worked so long to obtain."

"Erik!" she cried, walking quickly toward him. Grabbing his head, she pulled it to her and kissed him furiously. He grasped for her with one hand while still holding tightly to the rope with the other. Before the kiss deepened, though, she pulled back, tears forming in her eyes.

"Erik...if you do not release him, I shall not go with you. God knows, I love you, and I need you. But I cannot just watch one death after another happen before my eyes. Release him or I shall not go with you willingly. _That is your choice_."

Erik stared down at her with some amusement. She was giving him an ultimatum? His heart softened a little, though, as he saw her pleading eyes. They were not resolved or stern, but rather full of desperation and exhaustion. He knew then that Christine would go with him even if he did choke the last breath out of the boy. She had no where else to turn...no one else to grasp on to. He was really all she had.

Erik wanted badly to eliminate all competition right there and then. With one yank he would never again have to worry about her going back to the damn boy. Yet, he knew that if killed him, Christine would never look at him the same way. Yes, she would stay with him, but it would be out of necessity and not love. And why should he destroy the perfection that they had created for no reason? He had already won. For the sake of Christine's soul and sanity, Erik released the neck of the Vicomte.

Raoul landed with a thud on the other side and clutched his neck to relieve the pain of the rope burns. Erik came toward him, green eyes flaming brightly in the dark. "If you do not leave my sight now, you will meet your end, and no one shall save you! Get out!"

Raoul slowly stood up, sending one last desperate look to Christine. Had he thought it would have helped her to escape the darkness, he would have died for her right then. She smiled sadly at him. "Goodbye, Raoul. I do hope you find great happiness."

Slowly Raoul backed up from her, pain and exhaustion in his eyes, knowing there was nothing he could do. Defeatedly , he walked blindly back through the tunnels, pausing only for a second at the exit to leave Erik's mask upon the ground. His footsteps echoed softly in the cave until they slowly faded away.

Christine watched him go for a moment, realizing with a tiny bit of sadness that a part of her life had just ended. "He had better stay out of our way," Erik said angrily, from behind her. "If I see him one more time, he will die, Christine. You are mine now." He wrapped his arm around her waist tightly, forcing her to look into his eyes and abandon all thoughts of the past. Christine wearily smiled at him, still slightly shaken. Suddenly from high above, they heard the sound of many footsteps approaching, cries echoing angrily throughout the cavern. The mob had almost arrived.

**Okay...I have been debating two ways to go about ending this story. Since you guys have been so great with your reviews, though, I want to know what you want. **

**It can end with the next chapter, in a realistic and slightly angsty way. It will still be E/C but will not necessarily have the happily-ever-after feel to it. Some of you may like that if you think it is time for the story to end, or you like the darker endings.**

**The other option is an extended ending, in which there will be an undetermined amount of chapters to the story. It will be slightly happier, with engagements and weddings...and whatever else you would like.**

**So those are your options. You try my patience! Make your choice! (:**

**Next (possibly last) chapter will be up after I know what you want. If I don't get a lot of responses I'll probably go with the first option. Thanks!**


	27. Destruction

The footsteps of the mob approached rapidly, causing the walls to vibrate around them. Christine gasped and looked around frantically before starting for the boat. Erik grabbed her arm, though, and roughly pulled her back. "It is too late to leave now," he said grimly. "There is no time. We must hide here."

He took her hand and led her back to the bedrooms, stopping at the door of the room he had forbidden her to enter. She looked at him curiously as he opened it. Erik turned to her. "I suppose it is time that you see where I have slept." His tone had a hint of sadness. As he opened the door, she stepped in and looked around, her eyes finally settling on the object in the middle of the floor. She gasped slightly.

"But Erik, there is a coffin in here! Why is there a coffin in here!"

"It is my bed, and it suits me." He did not elaborate on the matter, and he hated the look of pity she was giving him at that moment. "That is not the only thing in here, though." He gestured to a mirror that was firmly built into the wall. She stared at him with confusion before glancing at her reflection.

"There is a small compartment behind the mirror. I built it for a time such as this, when I would need to quickly hide. After one is chased my mobs all one's life, one prepares for these situations." He walked over and pulled a small lever, causing the mirror to unhinge itself from the wall to reveal a small, enclosed area. Christine wondered if that was how he activated the mirror in the room she had been in. Taking her hand again, Erik led her into the tiny space and then closed the mirror behind them. There they stood in the dark quietly...waiting. Christine held her breath, her hands shaking in fear. She felt Erik's arm fold comfortingly around her waist, and she leaned against him...closing her eyes tightly.

For a moment there was silence, and then suddenly came the sound of angry shouts. The words were inaudible, but they were followed by loud crashes and thuds. Glass seemed to shatter from all directions. One blaring roar came from the organ as it was smashed, and Christine could feel Erik tense as his instrument was destroyed. She heard them march into her room and throw the glass trinkets to the ground. There was the faint noise of fabric ripping as the dresses were torn. Angry cries of hatred swirled all around them.

Then they heard the door to the room open. Christine's heart pounded rapidly as two sets of footsteps walked in. Erik's arm tightened around her waist, his breath quicker in her ear. Two gruff male voices could be heard from outside.

"What the hell is this? A coffin? Figures the monster would have a coffin."

"Open it, Jean. Maybe he is inside."

"You open it, you dimwit!" There was a creaking sound as the box was slowly unlatched. "Well, it looks like the dead walks tonight," said Jean with a laugh. "Look! He also has a mirror in here." The man tapped on it roughly with his fist, not noticing the hollow sound it made.

"Hah! If I had a face like that, I would break every mirror within sight of me."

"If I had a face like that," replied Jean, turning around, "my mother would have drowned me at birth, God rest her soul." Both men broke out in loud cruel laughter. Christine leaned her head back on Erik in an expression of reassurance, knowing that the words must be painful. He just continued to hold onto her. Another set of footsteps entered the room.

"What are you two doing? We are leaving. He is obviously not here." This voice was slightly less gruff, more reasonable.

"Just having a bit of fun. Say, if we find the monster, are we just going to fire a bullet into his ugly head and end it there?" asked Jean.

"That would be no fun," replied his friend. "We should knock him around a little, torture him good...make the other half of his face match the first." The two men laughed until they were interrupted by the third.

"Get out of here, you bloodthirsty idiots! We are here to kill him and kill him quickly. Now let's go!" The footsteps rapidly left the room. Sounds from outside could still be heard, as the mob looked around one last time for the demon that lived below.

Christine breathed a small sigh of relief as the door closed, almost collapsing to the floor. Erik still held to her, though, and she clutched his hand tightly. Finally the sounds began to fade away, as the mob went to search in another direction. By that time, some had talked of giving up the hunt all together. Searching the entire opera house had not been as easy as they expected, and many felt vindicated once they had ravaged the home.

"Oh, Erik," Christine whispered wearily. "I do not think I can take anything else today."

"It is almost over," he replied, stroking her back softly. They waited for a substantial amount of time, making sure that everyone was entirely gone. Then the couple slowly opened the mirror and left from the chamber, finding themselves in almost complete darkness. Many of the candles and lanterns that had lit the labyrinth had been knocked over or smashed.

In the little light that was left, Christine gasped as she looked over the ruins of the home. Pieces of glass lay scattered at her feet, the remains of the figurines in her room. The dresses she had come to love lay in shreds, and most of the furniture had been broken. Strangely, the little monkey music box remained in tact, staring up at her from the floor. She picked it up and held it to her heart before leaving the room.

Erik looked with some anguish at the remains of the organ. Many of the keys were displaced, and the entire frame was crunched in. Torn sheets of music decked the floor. He wondered bitterly if there were any copies of his opera left. No matter, though, he thought with an eerie satisfaction, as he looked longingly over at Christine, still in her Aminta costume. It had been performed, and Don Juan _had_ triumphed.

She felt him come up quietly behind her as she continued to survey the damage. "They are just things, Christine," he said softly.

"But it was your home," she replied, taking his hand into hers. "Oh, I hate every one of them!" she said with tear-choked anger.

"Shhh," he stroked her face, slightly unsettled by the fury in her eyes. "Perhaps we should step outside for a while...leave this for a moment." Erik wasn't eager to go out into the open, but he knew that Christine would start to go insane if she had to stare at this much longer.

They walked down to where the boat was. Though the oar had been cut in two, the boat itself had withstood the onslaught. Erik picked up half of the oar with disdain. "I suppose I shall have to make it work somehow." They climbed into the boat and made their way up the familiar passage. As they neared the exit, Christine saw Erik's mask laying where Raoul had carefully set it. She picked it up as they passed and looked down at it, turning it over in her small fingers. Erik wondered if she wanted him to put it back on.

"Do you wish to return me my dignity, Christine?" he asked quietly, holding his hand out for the mask.

Christine started. "Oh...no, Erik... I do not care if you wear it. I shall toss it into the water if you wish."

He wryly smiled at her, wondering if her words were true. "That shall not be necessary." She handed it to him, and he fixed it onto his face, feeling more in control again. Erik continued to row down the dark passages, until he stopped in a familiar area. Christine recognized it as the wall they had first exited when they had taken a walk. How long ago that now seemed...

He opened the panel, and they stepped out into the night. The smell of smoke and burnt wood sat heavily in the air. Christine walked forward a ways and then turned back around to look at the ruined opera house. The entire front had been badly charred, and all of the front windows had been blown out, glass covering the sidewalk. Though the foundation remained intact, much of the inside appeared to be blackened. From a distance, she could see many people milling about the area, some carrying what appeared to be bodies wrapped in blankets. Somewhere a child could be heard wailing.

Erik saw Christine's pained expression as she looked at the devastation. Frankly, he was used to chaos and death following him to wherever he journeyed. Mobs had attacked his house even when he was a child. But Christine...she had probably never seen such misery in her life.

Wishing to take the pain out of her eyes, he gently embraced her, feeling an unfamiliar regret tugging slightly at him. "It is over now," he whispered. "It is done." Christine placed her arms around his shoulders and tried to believe the words to be true. Was it really over? Could there be peace now? Erik lifted up her chin and kissed her. She returned it, trying to again lose herself in his eyes. The horrific images of the day still lingered before her, though.

"Erik...how can we stay here any longer," she asked quietly. "What if they come back?"

"I expect that they will," he replied. "As I told you once before, it is not safe for me any longer. I have been making arrangements to leave for quite a while. The opera house is vacant for now, though, so we should be safe for at least several weeks."

Now that she was faced with the decision, Christine realized that it was not really a choice anymore. Where would she go if not with Erik? Oddly, she had always pictured life with him in his lair, cozily reading a book or listening to him while he played his organ. The thought of going into the world with him was unsettling. Yet, there were few options left.

They continued to stare at the glowing cinders that still surrounded the opera house. After a moment, Erik silently took Christine's arm, and they headed back to the boat...images of destruction continuing to plague her mind.

**Wow! You guys gave the most awesome comments ever! They were so insightful, and I was really happy to hear your opinions about their relationship and Erik's redemption. Overall, it was kind of divided, but I think that the happier extended version won. There were also many people who seemed interested in an extended darker version. **

**This is what I've decided to do. I am going to extend the story and give it a happy ending, but it will not be built on only fluff. There won't be a wedding or children, and Erik isn't going to turn into Monsieur Sunshine. One reviewer noted that Erik is still unhinged and dangerous, and I agree. His possessiveness is a darker issue that can be addressed. Secondly, he is a fugitive, so that presents another conflict. **

**There will definitely be some fluff, but I am staying away from total sappiness. So I hope everyone continues to read, even if they weren't happy with the decision. I promise that the story will keep some of its darker qualities. Thanks!**


	28. Picking up the Pieces

**Hello! Well, most people seemed happy with the decision so that's good! As it stands now, this story has about six chapters left counting this one. I have had several people ask about a sequel, and I do have some ideas for one. I'll let you get through this story, though, before you decide if you're even interested.**

**This chapter is a fluffy one...so sorry angst lovers. Dark Erik will be back later! **

When Christine awoke, she found herself in her bed, laying among torn but usable sheets. Sitting up, she realized that her back was sore. The mattress frame had been broken, causing the bed to slump down in an unnatural position. She groaned as her mind flew with memories of the previous day, and a nauseous feeling began to overtake her. Part of her wished to just go back to sleep and forget again.

After she and Erik had returned to the remains of his home, she had immediately gone to bed, depleted of all energy. Still she did not feel rested and realized it had been a long time since she had eaten. The costume she wore had become dirty and ripped, and she wondered if there were any dresses that remained intact. Careful not to step on the broken glass, she walked to the closet and looked at the remaining clothing. Relieved, she found one light blue dress with just a slight tear in the sleeve and a few threads hanging out.

After putting it on and adjusting all of her undergarments, Christine wearily left the room. Erik met her as soon as she exited, causing her to jump slightly.

"Good morning," she said with a tired smile. Erik had relit some of the lanterns and candles so the room was not as dark. Christine had an even better view of the damage now, and she looked around, her mouth twisted in distress.

"Some things remained intact," he began, following her as she walked around. "The money that I have hidden was never found. Many of the books were saved as well..." There was a slight desperation in his voice...a false optimism, as if he was trying to make her forget all of the terror.

She turned. "It is fine, Erik... Actually, I keep forgetting that most of my things are not even here. They are back at the conservatory. Before I go...I will need to retrieve them." Christine knew he wouldn't like the idea, but she had far too many memories in her possession to abandon them.

Erik looked slightly startled. Hadn't he just found her, only to let her leave again? "I can take you at night..." he began.

"No, Erik. I must go during the day. I have to formally withdraw from the school, pack my things neatly, say goodbye to people... I cannot just disappear into thin air. You may take me, but it shall have to be during the day." She was going to hold her ground, determined to prove to herself what she had so desperately tried to convince her former fiancé of. She was _not_ a prisoner.

He looked away. " I shall have a carriage take you, then."

She kissed his cheek, slightly relieved. "I shall be fine." She looked around, the destruction not quite as bad as it had seemed a moment before. Bending down, she began to pick up the broken pieces of glass. Erik watched her for a moment, her mouth fixed in determination as she tried to fix some of the objects and reorganize the sheets of music. What would he do if she was not there with him in all this madness? It made him sick to think of it. As if to make sure she was not a figment of his imagination, he reached out and pulled her into his chest.

"Erik!" she cried with a surprised smile as he sat down with her in his arms and began to kiss her collarbone. She placed her arms around his shoulders and gazed up at him, before running her hands through his dark hair, drawing him nearer to her.

Bringing his hands to her hips, he continued to lay quick kisses around her face, over her cheekbones and down to her chin. "Erik...it would be easier if you would just remove that dreadful thing," she said as she felt the hard porcelain brush roughly up against her skin with each kiss. He hesitated a moment but then removed the mask and continued, trying to pretend he was a normal man with his lover.

After a moment, she grabbed his head and brought his lips to hers, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. He gasped for a moment, surprised by the new sensation and then cautiously did the same. They continued to kiss just so, massaging the lithe muscles against each other, hands gliding down each other's waists. Christine wondered how Erik held so much power in such a thin frame, as she slid her arms over his lean shoulders and down his back, continuing to move her mouth within his. Finally they stopped for breath, and she leaned against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him.

As she lay sprawled against him so closely, he began to feel uncomfortable...other desires beginning to course through him. She looked so perfect...her curves distinctively outlined within the dress, her brown eyes staring at him with want. No one had ever looked at him so before, and it was getting difficult to handle. With a grunt, he abruptly got up...attempting to find control and not wanting to bring any more confusion to the situation. She looked surprised by his quick action. "What is wrong?" she asked, still seated, slightly hurt.

"I...I need to leave for a while. I am going to survey the opera house...see what the extent of the damage is."

"I shall come with you," she replied, quickly standing up.

"No, Christine. I shall be crawling through many tight spaces and around many obstacles. It will not be safe for you. You must stay here." She started to argue, but his gaze told her that he wished to go alone.

"Very well," she looked down. "I shall continue to clean up some."

He started for the boat but grabbed her toward him once again, brushing her lips softly with his own. "Do not ever leave me, Christine," he commanded, holding to her for a moment longer.

"I will not," she said softly, bringing her hands to his waist now, drawing him closer to her. He kissed her again and departed.

After he left, Christine continued to try to put the pieces of the house back together. Behind the remains of the organ, she found several pages of Erik's opera and skimmed through them. She remembered when he had played for her...those peaceful moments together had been like a dream. For a minute she was overcome with sadness at all of the loss, but the sound of footsteps took her out of the stupor.

Christine stood up quickly, knowing Erik had not been gone long enough to return. These were not his commanding footsteps anyway. They were softer, more cautious. What if someone from the mob had returned? Panicking, she ran behind a corner, staring timidly out as a shadow approached her.

Looking up, she felt herself become overwhelmed with relief. There stood Madame Giry, her face fixed in an expression of devastation as she surveyed the mess.

"Madame Giry!" she exclaimed standing up. The woman jumped in surprise.

"Christine...child...oh...thank God you are alive. I did not know what happened after last night. It looks as though the mob did find their way down here, though."

"Yes," replied Christine, embracing her. "They came, but Erik and I hid. And then with the fire...It was terrible! I did not know if we were going to survive."

"Thankfully you both did, though. Where is he now?"

"He has gone to survey the opera house. I do not know all of his plans, though."

Madame Giry shook her head in dismay. "Does he plan to stay here? Once the opera house is reopened, they will search for him again, especially now that they have discovered Piangi's strangled body. It is not safe."

Christine's heart jumped slightly. She had tried to avoid wondering what had happened to Piangi...had been happier not knowing. Breaking quickly out of her disturbing thoughts, she turned back to Madame Giry. "No...Erik plans to leave here. We plan to leave."

Madame Giry sensed something was wrong. "And you are still happy?"

Christine sighed. "I love him, and I want desperately to be with him. It is just that...I am so tired of all the suffering that seems to befall us. There is so much pain, Madame Giry...so much death. Yet, if I left him, I would regret that even more."

The older woman smiled sadly. "Perhaps you shall find peace somewhere, my dear. He cares for you greatly." She looked over the damage. "Is there anything that you need? Clothing, perhaps?"

"Thank you, Madame. No, I do not need new clothing, but I do need to return to the conservatory and retrieve my things. Erik does not like me going alone, but it must be done. There are too many things that I hold dear to me." Madame Giry was silent for a moment.

"Christine, if you would like, I will allow you to take Meg with you. She has always been curious about the conservatory. That way you will not be alone."

"Oh, Madame! That would be wonderful! I would love to show Meg, and it will be nice having someone to talk to after...everything."

"It is really the least I can do, Christine. You have suffered greatly to bring him such happiness. I shall go now, as he probably would not appreciate me coming down here uninvited. Tell me if I can do anything else for you."

"Thank you, Madame. You have done so much already." The woman left, and Christine felt a peace come over her at the thought that there was some stability in all of the chaos.

Erik returned several hours later. Remembering Piangi, Christine looked up at him with a slightly distraught expression as he came in.

He looked unusually pleased, though. "Christine...much of the opera house was undamaged! Only the front was severely burned. I have brought you some items that were abandoned in the rooms." With a rare smile, he brought out several elegant dresses and a necklace, displaying them before her eyes. "They are newly designed," he explained. "Probably to be used in an upcoming opera. No one shall miss them soon."

She took the garments into her hands, feeling the expensive fabric. He placed his arm around her, as she looked down at them. "Thank you," she said softly.

"What is wrong, Christine?" he asked. "Do you dislike them?"

"No, Erik. I...I love them. Nothing is wrong." Why should she bring up the past? As Erik had said last night. It was over. It was done.

She lay against him and closed her eyes, able to forget as he wrapped his arms around her.


	29. Final Goodbyes

**Okay...grit your teeth and get through my Erik-less chapter...**

Christine lifted her face up and took in a long breath of fresh morning air. The sunlight felt wonderful on her pale cheeks, and she allowed herself to finally be embraced by its warmth. Compared to what she had seen over the past two days, it felt as if she had entered a whole different world.

She and Meg calmly stood, waiting for the carriage to come. Meg noticed Christine's peaceful expression. She did not know the extent of what Christine had been through, but she had witnessed the tragedy at _Don Juan_ and knew that it involved the opera ghost. Her mother would give her no more details, saying only that Christine was facing a difficult future and deserved all the help that she could get.

"Thank you for coming, Meg," Christine said softly.

"Oh, I was happy to be able to. After what happened that terrible night, it will be nice to leave the city for a while. I have never seen such horror in all of my life."

Christine grimaced, knowing she held a little responsibility. "Yes, Meg. It was terrible." Seeing her pained face, Meg changed the subject.

"Christine...my mother says you are unengaged from the Vicomte. Is that true?"

"Yes. I am afraid that we...just did not have enough in common."

"He seemed very nice, though. But I suppose only you can know who you wish to be with. I cannot wait till I find someone to marry!"

Christine smiled. "Do not get into too much of a hurry, Meg."

They rode silently for a while. Christine stared out the window, enjoying some semblance of normalcy. All of the familiar scenery seemed especially colorful to her eyes. Spring was nearing and green was returning to the land. She hoped she would be able to enjoy the season as it approached, even after her new life began.

It seemed like they had barely started before they had arrived at the conservatory. The large but familiar brick building loomed above them, many young women milling about outside the front. Meg gazed up at it. "It looks nice, Christine!"

"I have had many good times here," she replied. "I will definitely miss it." They stepped out of the carriage and walked inside. Christine breathed in the familiar smell of polished wood and looked around, noticing the entrance seemed smaller than it used to. Meg stared up at the many stairwells and rooms. "My room is up these stairs," said Christine, beginning to walk up. Meg followed.

To her surprise, many of the girls from her conservatory were gathered outside her room. They gasped when they saw her and ran over.

"Christine! You are all right!"

"We thought you had been hurt in the tragedy!"

"Is it true that you were kidnaped?"

"Where is the Vicomte?" Questions flew at her from every direction, as they each gave her quick hugs. She did not know where to begin. They looked at her expectantly.

"I...I am doing fine," she replied. "It is a long story...but I am here to collect my things and leave today."

"To marry the Vicomte?" asked one girl, with slight jealousy.

"No..no. I am afraid that the engagement is broken." Would anyone ever stop asking her about that? They continued to stare at her, waiting for her to continue. Christine knew that there was no way to explain, though, and awkwardly changed the subject. "This is Meg Giry from the opera house. She is in the ballet." They nodded politely at each other. The girls began to shift uncomfortably.

"Well, Christine," said Annette, one of her closer friends. "We wish you the best, and we will miss you." They muttered their goodbyes and left, puzzlement in their eyes as they walked whispering down the hall.

"Do you have many friends here?" asked Meg as she began to help Christine gather her belongings.

"I...used to, Meg. But...I have lost many over the last year." Her voice was tired, and she felt miles away from all of the people that she once knew. They continued to gather up the items, and Christine wondered why it seemed like certain things were missing. In fact, many of the things her father had given her were gone. Perhaps she would find them later.

At around noon, they stopped to rest and find something to eat. With a yawn, Meg sauntered over to the window to look at the view from upstairs. Gazing down at the road, she let out a slight gasp.

"What is wrong, Meg?"

"Isn't that...your fian-...I mean the Vicomte?"

"What?" asked Christine running over. Meg was indeed correct. Raoul and his driver stood in front of the opera house, unloading boxes from the back of the carriage. "Oh my...!" She rushed out of the room and ran down the stairs, Meg remaining on the top step, looking out curiously.

"Raoul!" she cried, as she came out the door. "What are you doing here?" She asked it rather harshly, only later realizing that he could not have known she was back at the conservatory

"Christine!" he gasped, shocked to see her in broad daylight. He composed himself quickly, though, not wishing to displease anyone that may be in her company. His tone became more stoic. "I came to return your possessions to you. You began to bring them to my manor before our wedding...and I was going to leave them back here with your friends." Raoul refused to look her in the eye, standing stiffly to the side.

So that was why her room had seemed empty. She'd forgotten just how close she had gotten to starting a permanent life with Raoul. Christine felt guilty at her accusatory tone. "Oh...I am sorry. I just...thank you for doing so."

"Yes, well, I suppose I shall leave your things here and be off. I am sure there is someone who can help you carry them." He and his driver unloaded the last few boxes and brought them to the steps. Christine quietly watched, wondering if there was anything worth saying to him.

When they were finished, Raoul nodded to her curtly and began to walk away. "Wait," she said softly. He paused, not turning around.

"I would rather not have my neck snapped today, Christine," the Vicomte retorted somewhat bitterly.

"Raoul, he is not with me. I am here with a friend, collecting my things." He looked back with slight surprise.

"You mean _he_ allows you out of his sight?"

"Raoul...I have told you repeatedly that I am not a prisoner. I come and go as I please. Do not worry about me." Wearily he walked back up to her, shoulders slumped.

"Christine...I wish for you to be happy. If I knew that you were secure...that your life would be peaceful...I would let you go with grace. But Christine...he...he is a killer...a thief...How can I know that he will not hurt you?" His voice was soft, defeated yet still trying to save her in some last way.

She sighed. "Just know that he will never harm me, Raoul. I can promise you that." There was silence for a long moment. Raoul spoke.

"I am leaving Paris in several days, Christine. My brother and I are going to go sailing over the next year. It will do me well to get away for a while."

"That is...wonderful, Raoul," she replied. "I wish you all the best." Silence again.

"My Little Lotte," he finally said quietly. "What shall I ever do with you?"

"You have not called me that forever," she replied, staring off into the distance.

"Little Lotte, let her mind wander..." he began with a sad smile.

"Oh, stop Raoul. That silly song brings back too many memories." She choked slightly as a single tear slid down her cheek. Christine wiped it away before he saw it.

"Yes, I guess it does, doesn't it?" He cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose I shall go now, Christine."

"Yes. I still have many things to attend to." She stood up with him, and they walked to the road.

"Christine..." he turned to her..."If you ever need me, I have family in the north part of Paris who can contact me if I am away. You have met them once before, I believe." He paused. "I will not forget you, and I would be lying if I said I felt secure with the decision you have made. Please be careful. There is always a way out, Christine." He looked carefully at her, giving her one last chance to escape.

"Raoul...I am happy. Do not fear for me, my friend." He leaned in slightly, and she allowed him to give her a soft kiss on her cheek, before wiping a wisp of blonde hair from his eyes. The Vicomte nodded sadly at her and departed.

"Goodbye, Christine._" __May God keep you safe..._

**Yes, this is the last chapter in this story with Raoul. **


	30. Words Worth Saying

**Over the next week or so I'm going to be doing some editing on previous chapters. I'm not sure if you guys get Author Alerts when chapters are replaced or not. If the e-mails become too annoying, though, tell me, and I'll limit my editing to only the chapters that need it the most. Thanks!**

**I'm glad most of you were happy that I let Raoul leave with grace. So Raoul has kindly departed, and Christine has basically given herself to Erik. So my phellow phans, don't you think it is time that Erik begins to prove himself worthy? He'll stay dark, but we need a little redemption here or we'll soon be saying "Poor, unhappy Christine." (That was a Leroux joke, if you haven't read the book) (:**

As Christine and Meg waited in the cool evening for the carriage to come, Christine took one last look at the giant brick building that had been her home for so many years. The lights in the windows shown brightly against the darkening sky, welcoming the students as they came in for the night. Everything had gone smoothly that day, as she packed up all of her things and said goodbye to her favorite instructors. She felt distanced from them, but, ironically, if she had been married, she would have left much earlier.

"Will you miss it?" asked Meg softly, seeing the far away look in Christine's eyes.

"Yes, Meg. I shall."

Meg spoke again after a moment, trying to hide the curiosity in her voice. "Where are you going to live now, Christine? Perhaps you can stay with my mother and me. I am to be dropped off at the flat we are renting for the time being. You may come if you'd like. "

Christine looked at her hands, admiring the sparkling ring upon her finger for a moment. "Thank you, Meg. I have somewhere to go, though. You and your mother have done enough for me as it is." Meg finally abandoned her questions, accepting the fact that there was a long story not meant for her ears.

With dismay, Christine wondered how she was to get all her belonging out of the carriage and down to the opera house by herself. Meg would have left her by that time, and the driver would only wish to help her so much. She sighed, wishing she could grow up and be more thoughtful about these things. After all that had happened, she still felt like a child sometimes.

Just as the sun had finally set on the horizon, the carriage finally came to a slow stop in front of them. The driver got out, and Christine went to request that he help her carry her boxes. "Excuse me, Monsieur..." she began before looking up and giving a slight gasp. Though he wore a hood that shadowed most of his face, Christine could make out a small portion of the mask and a pair of green eyes staring down at her in the dark. His commanding stature loomed silently over her.

"Erik! What are you doing here?" she whispered quietly, glancing nervously over at Meg. "How did you even know where it was?" Christine knew her voice sounded panicky, but she could not help herself at that moment.

"You did not think, my dear, that I would allow you to wander around in the night alone, did you?" he whispered back with a hint of a smile. "I only said I would call for a carriage to bring you here in the day. Now that it is dark, I am quite able to pick you up. Are you not happy to see me?" He drew closer to her, nearly touching her. For a moment she was mesmerized by his presence before drawing herself back quickly to reality.

"Erik, I am extremely pleased to see you...but it is dangerous. And Meg is here."

"Do not worry, Christine. No one shall see us in the dark, and Meg will unsuspectingly ride along." Softly he touched her arm, gazing down into her eyes to try to find the source of her nervousness. "Now, let us gather your belongings." Christine slowly walked back to Meg.

"Is everything okay?" the young girl asked, looking suspiciously at the cloaked driver.

"Yes, Meg," replied Christine, her hands slightly shaking. "Everything is fine. We shall drop you off at your flat soon."

Both girls went to help load the carriage, picking up the lighter items. Erik was careful to stay quiet around Meg. His voice, which Meg had heard booming through the ballet dormitories on several occasions, was not one to be quickly forgotten.

A part of Christine was extremely relieved to have him there. They would be safe against any ills of the night, and she would not have to worry about carrying her belongings in the dark. At the same time, it was odd being with him while others were present, as if someone would suddenly discover her dark secret. Erik had always been a part of another world that was in no way connected to her life in the light. Perhaps she should get used to it, though, as they would not be hidden away in th depths of the opera house much longer.

Finally they finished. Erik helped her up into the carriage, giving her hand a light brush with his lips when Meg was not looking. She blushed and smiled, trying to relax in his presence. Meg sensed a tension in the air but said nothing. As the three rode silently into the night, Christine began to feel a calm come over her. Perhaps everything would work out for the best with her angel near her. Meg had fallen asleep against the side and was breathing quietly. Christine closed her eyes too and nodded off for a moment.

"Christine?" Meg's tired voice awoke her.

"Mmhm?" asked Christine, still half asleep.

"Do you think you will keep in touch with your friends at the conservatory?"

"Probably not, Meg," she said with a yawn.

"Do you think you shall stay friends with the Vicomte? It was nice of him to bring you your stuff today. Imagine what would have happened if you had left it at his manor!"

It took Christine a brief second to realize the impact of what Meg had just said. She sat straight up wide awake, the little color left draining from her face. _Oh, God, Meg...no_.

Meg could not see Christine's distraught expression in the dark. "Christine?"

She froze. "Meg, let's not talk about this right now." Christine looked up front toward Erik, praying that he could not hear them over the rush of the wind and the hard clops of the horses' hooves. He gave no indication that he had, continuing to sit upright and hold the reins.

"I am sorry, Christine," Meg replied, slightly surprised by Christine's sharp tone.

"It is fine." Christine's heart continued to beat rapidly as they went on, hoping against all odds that Erik had not been listening. When they finally arrived at the corner where Meg was to be dropped off, Christine was both relieved and apprehensive at the thought of being alone with him.

"Right here, please," Meg called loudly forward. The carriage slowed without a word from the driver. He started to come around to help her out, but Meg stopped him. "I am fine by myself, Monsieur. My flat is right on the corner. Thank you." Frankly, the hooded man made her very nervous. Christine was acting very oddly as well.

"Goodbye, Meg," said Christine softly, not knowing if she would ever see her again.

"Goodbye Christine," she replied, curiosity plastered on her face.

Silently, Erik brought the horses forward again. Perhaps it was best to pretend that he had not heard so she would not act nervously around him. After all, Meg had spoken very softly, and perhaps his mind had been somewhere else at the time.

The carriage slowed to a stop in a dark alley near the opera house. Christine held her breath as he turned to her, his expression hidden in the shadows of the cloak. "I think it best to leave your things in here for now, as we shall be departing within several days. It would be a waste of time to carry everything down there only to bring it up again. Besides, the owner of the carriage shall not be missing it any time soon, as he was quite intoxicated." He sounded in good humor, and Christine breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you for coming, Erik. You have made this so much easier." He helped her down, and they walked silently through the panel and into the opera house, keeping a close watch on their surroundings for any unwelcome visitors.

Once they were through, Erik turned to her. "How was your visit?" It seemed like a harmless question, though Christine thought she heard an edge in it. She shifted nervously.

"It was uneventful, really." Should she lie? "I just retrieved my belongings and said goodbye to my friends." Christine prayed silently he would not delve deeper.

"Like who, Christine?" The question reeked of sarcasm. _Good God. He knew_. Lying would only anger him more.

"My friends at the dormitory and my instructors." Christine sighed deeply, knowing he would be infuriated if she did not admit to it then. "Raoul brought me some of my belongings."

"So you did see the boy?" He did not turn around, just continued to walk forward, his footsteps echoing against the cold stones.

"Erik...I did not even know he would be there. My belongings were at his manor-I brought them there before the wedding-and he was just returning them to me. And furthermore...he is leaving within a couple of days. You need not worry about him anymore." She berated herself for jabbering on like a lunatic, the pitch of her voice rising with each word.

"I do not worry about him, Christine," Erik replied, his volume rising slightly.

"Fine, Erik. But he is gone now." She softened her voice, hoping he would leave the matter to rest.

"Did he give you a kiss goodbye?" It was said with a quiet sneer.

"Erik!" she turned around, suddenly angry. "He is gone! Will you leave him alone? Have I not already proved that I wish to be with you?" It was one of the first times she had ever raised her voice to him, and she could feel her hands begin to shake in apprehension of what was to come.

"Did he?" he calmly repeated. She sighed. There was no use lying to him. Erik would know her words to be untrue in an instant.

"He gave me a small kiss on the cheek, Erik. He told me goodbye, and he left...like a _gentleman_." Erik rapidly turned around and cornered her against the frigid catacomb wall. She looked straight into his glaring eyes, afraid yet infuriated.

"Was it nice to receive a kiss from such flawless lips, Christine?"

"Erik," she gritted her teeth. "It was a small kiss goodbye and nothing more. Let me go!"

He grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the boat. Christine reluctantly went along, knowing there was little she could do at that moment, praying that he would calm down and that the fury would leave his eyes. Rapidly Erik rowed the boat to the lair, not once looking down at her. Christine felt her dress get wet as the icy water splashed around her, and she sensed goose bumps running up and down her arms.

Finally they arrived at the wrecked lair. Erik did not help her out, and she had to steady herself as she stood up in the shaky boat and walked onto the land. With a sigh, Christine began to head to her room to give him time to calm down but felt him grab her roughly from behind. She cried out in nervous surprise. Erik now held her tightly around her shoulders in a possessive embrace, trailing his hands sensually over her stomach and her waist, before rapidly turning her around. "Erik...what are you doing?" she asked, unsettled by the frightening glow in his eyes.

"I shall make you mine again," he said calmly, before kissing her mouth roughly. Though at first she was going to return it, Christine felt a sharp pain jab her bottom lip and rapidly pushed him away with a cry. He backed up several steps, a look of rejection crossing his face.

"I see," he hissed. "You do not wish for a kiss from a monster...not when you have remembered what it was like to be kissed by a _gentleman_."

"Erik, you hurt me!" she exclaimed, her eyes watering as she tasted the blood in her mouth. "He gave me a single parting kiss goodbye. It was nothing more! Why are you doing this?"

"Do you wish to leave with him Christine?" It was asked without hostility...just calmly.

Christine placed her head into her hands in frustration. "Erik! I came back here more than one time to be with you. When the mob came, I hid with you, knowing that I could be killed at any time. How can you ask that? If I wished to be with him, I would have been married months ago. Why can you not understand this?"

"I..." Erik turned to give her another scathing retort but suddenly stopped. Seeing her darkly shadowed eyes and defeated posture, he began to feel great self-loathing. For the first time he noticed how pale and gaunt Christine's face had become, framed by her limp, dry curls. Along with her now swollen lip and the small red scratches on her face from the repeated escapes through the catacombs, Christine was starting to look appropriately fit for the role of his lover.

She did not look like the innocent girl he had seen on stage so many months ago...the bright-eyed young woman with bouncing brown locks of hair, and a shy but friendly smile. All of the life was beginning to leave her face, and there was very little red left in her cheeks. Perhaps she had been foolish for ever returning.

Cautiously Erik reached out his hand to touch her face, and she allowed him to gently stroke her cheek, her eyes closing in hope that it was over. He then reached down and lightly touched her wounded lip, wishing to make it disappear. To his utmost surprise, Christine suddenly threw herself against him in a desperate embrace, clutching him tightly and burying her head deeply into his shoulder. It was both a sign of affection and a plea for mercy. Erik slowly wrapped his long arms around her, slightly awed by her dependency. No matter what sin he committed, she always returned to him.

Right then, Erik vowed to give her some kind of a normal life with him. He would give her a house, and a wedding, and all of the things that the damn boy could have given her. He would not allow her to fade away into a shell of herself...to become what he had become after so many years.

As Erik held onto her tightly, he tried to think of some words of comfort...anything that would make her happy to be in his arms again.

And then he realized that there was only one thing that was worth saying to her that night.

"I am sorry," he whispered.

He felt the tension leave her body as she leaned against him.


	31. That Which Cannot Be

**You guys are just so wonderful! I remember the first night I posted this story as I timidly waited for my first review, wondering if I was going to be brutally flamed. From the first review I've gotten to the last, you guys have given me self-esteem like I've never had before. Thank you so much for your support!**

**Probably only one or two more chapters after this. It makes me very sad...**

Erik paced back and forth in front of Christine's door, eagerly waiting for her to get up. Tempted as he was to barge in and awaken her, he held himself back, not wanting to upset her again. When he told her the news, he wanted to see nothing but happiness on her face. For once in his life, he wished to feel normal...just a man trying to begin a new life with his lover. Nothing more...

Finally, Erik began to hear her stirring inside the room, the broken bed creaking when she sat up and arose from it. He could hear her give a slight yawn, before slowly padding her way to the door. As she opened it to come out, Erik immediately greeted her.

She almost backed up after seeing the expression on his face. Was he...smiling at her? "Erik, are you all right?" she asked cautiously, making her way to the front. As she walked away, he grabbed her around the waist and held her tightly, kissing her head, inhaling her scent. "Erik, what is going on?" she asked with a nervous laugh, as she leaned against him.

"Christine... I have secured us a home far outside of the city. We shall leave tonight." He awaited her response

Christine's brown eyes immediately lit up. "Erik! That is wonderful!" she exclaimed, turning to face him. "How did you ever manage to do that?"

He sighed for a minute. "There are those that owe me favors Christine...from many years ago. I have collected a large sum of money over the years, and most men do not care whose hands it comes from. But...let us not delve into that." The answer was cryptic, but Christine pushed it from her mind as she had so often learned to do when it came to the workings of Erik. She rapidly grabbed him and kissed him lovingly upon the corner of his unmasked side, allowing a peace to settle throughout herself.

"We shall take what little is salvageable, and depart immediately in the carriage once it is dark. After we leave the city, we should have no difficulty getting out." He did not tell her that the guards were beginning to gather again. None dared go into the opera house to search for him, for they knew that they would lose on Erik's territory. Patiently, they waited for him to finally come outside, where they would have a clear shot of him. Their only chance of escape would be at night. Christine awoke him from his thoughts.

"Erik, I shall gather the few items that I have here, though most were left in the carriage. In fact, there is little here for me to take...except maybe that adorable little music box..." She continued to jabber on for a while, her eyes lighting up as she thought of the many possibilities that came with the house. Really they were her most normal thoughts since...planning her wedding with Raoul so many months ago. The wedding dress still sat in the back with Christine's other possessions. She allowed herself to wonder for a brief moment if she would ever wear it.

As Erik watched Christine gather her few belongings, he wondered if it was all real. Was Christine really down here with him in the dark? Had she really come to stay with him, despite his face...despite the destruction he had caused? Did she really wish for him to touch her...kiss her...hold her? Sometimes he wondered if he had gone completely insane, and that all the things around him were nothing but illusions. Yet, he was a master of illusion, and nothing he had ever devised was as real as this.

When night fell, they stood in front of the lair, looking at it one last time, knowing that they may never see it again. It was still in shambles, but here and there were items that hinted at the beauty that had once existed. Christine had collected a few of the dresses and other articles that had remained in tact, including the music box. Erik had grabbed the money, several books, and some of his unfinished compositions. He did not attempt to piece together _Don Juan Triumphant_. Though not performed in its entirety, that opera was over. Unless Christine should wish it, he would not play it again.

"Will you miss it down here?" Christine asked softly, as they stepped into the boat for the last time. He did not respond for a long moment.

"It is difficult to miss what is forced upon you, but I suppose that I have not spent the worst part of my life here." She accepted the answer without question. Christine knew that she would dearly miss certain things, though. Fondly, she recalled the many times he had played for her...back to when she did not even know his name. Then, there were the many private moments they had shared together embraced in each other's arms. Sooner or later, though, she had to grow up and enter into the world, but she was happy that it was now ...and that it would be with Erik.

Silently they rowed down the lake and left through the familiar panel. He left the boat near the ledge, wondering if it would still be there if they ever returned. Erik recovered the carriage, glancing quickly around to make sure no eyes were upon them. They loaded in the few items that they had and climbed up in front, before quietly heading into the night. "How far is it?" Christine asked sleepily.

"It is about five hours outside of Paris, I believe...in a rural area." She was slightly dismayed by the length of time, but knew it was best to get as far away as possible...to a place where people knew nothing of the phantom or the opera house. Closing her eyes in a tired tranquility, she laid her head against Erik's shoulder and dozed off. Erik contentedly drove on, constantly checking over his shoulder to make sure he was not being followed. Several times he thought he heard someone in the distance, once when he allowed the horses to rest, but that was to be expected on a public road. Nevertheless, he kept his weapon close at hand. To Christine it seemed like only moments before he whispered into her ear. "We are here." He gave her cheek a soft kiss.

Surprised that she had been asleep for so long, Christine looked up to see that they were very much alone. In the dark, she could make out the outline of a large structure in front of her, surrounded by trees. Bathed in shadows, it was two stories tall and made of gray stone. They gazed up toward it together before leaving the carriage and making their way to the entrance. Erik carried a lantern, and it cast a glow on the front of the house.

The front door was white, and Christine could see that the paint was slightly chipped. She knew that she would have to wait until daylight, though, to fully inspect the house. Quietly they opened the door and walked in, the smell of pinewood greeting them from inside. Erik held the lantern up to give them a better view of the home.

"Erik! It is wonderful!" she cried, looking around. The room was partially furnished with several settees and a dining table. The walls, though slightly cracked, were painted a shiny white and oak paneling lined the high ceilings. Though the downstairs only had three rooms, all were spacious. Erik walked around closely inspecting the design of the house, already planning ways to improve upon it. Perhaps he could add another room for a grand piano. As he admired the windows, Erik felt Christine tug lightly at his arm.

"Let's go upstairs!" she exclaimed. For once, he allowed her to lead him by the hand and up the wooden stairs, cherishing her childish excitement. They saw that there were three bedrooms. Two were empty, just small rooms with a closet and a window. The largest room, however, contained a giant bed and two mahogany dressers. It also had a large window that looked down upon the vast property. They walked into it and gazed outside. Though most of the home was surrounded by trees, she could make out the faint glow of houses in the distance and was grateful that they were not completely isolated.

Erik turned to look at Christine at that moment. The half moon lit up her face as she gazed into the distance, an expression of peace on her mouth. Did he dare ask her tonight? Perhaps there would be no better time.

"Christine?" she looked up at him as he approached her.

"Today, I wish to begin giving you a normal life. To have all that you could have had if you had never returned." He took her small ringed hand into his and brushed his lips with it. "And I wish to ask you to join me as my wife."

Christine shyly smiled. It was not like the first proposal she had received, yet she would give the same answer as she had so many months before...only this time with the certainty she would never end it. Slowly she walked up to him and laid her arms around his shoulders. Standing on her tiptoes, she brought her lips gently to his neck, feeling a shiver run throughout him. "Yes," she whispered into his ear.

He relaxed into her arms, and she continued to kiss him, bringing her hands around his neck and down into his shirt, wishing to warm his cold skin with her touch. When she brought her head forward again, he kissed her fully on the lips, careful of the bruise that still lay there. It was the first kiss they had shared above ground.

After a moment, Christine sat down upon the floor and lay against the cool wall in a heated state of bliss. Erik lowered himself next to her, and they sat there in the dark quietly for a moment. "Would you not rather go to the bed? I can sleep here," asked Erik, as he noticed Christine beginning to nod off.

"I am happy here," she said softly, laying against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned against the wall, as they both settled into a comfortable slumber.

It was an hour later when Christine was rapidly awoken from a dream by Erik's swift movement. In the dim light, she saw that he had jumped up and rushed to the window.

"What is wrong?" she asked, sitting up in surprise. He turned to her, green eyes glowing with a frantic look of desperation. She shivered in his unnerving gaze.

"There is someone outside!" he rasped. With those words, Erik grabbed his weapon, and left Christine sitting alone in the dark bedroom.

* * *

"We have been waiting here for hours. They are _obviously _not going to come out. If you truly think it is the man we want, then let's just go in armed and bring him out." The younger officer sighed, beginning to feel exhausted. 

"You do not understand," replied the elder officer. "This man is powerful! An entire force of armed guards could not bring him down. What makes you think that we could?"

"Then why did we not bring an entire force of armed guards with us?"

"Because there was no time. We had to follow them to find out where they were located. Once we know that it is him, we can bring the rest of the police force to the house. I doubt he will be quite as powerful without the walls of the opera around him."

"But we do not even know if it is him! All we did was take off after the couple when they left. We did not even get a good look at his face!"

"Believe me, it is worth it to find out. Do you know what heroes we will be...what promotions we will get within the force if we find the infamous opera ghost? You will be able to buy your new wife anything she wishes for. Besides, I am sure it was him. Who else would come out of the abandoned opera house in the middle of the night? Plus I swore I glimpsed the mask!"

"I suppose." The younger officer sighed. "Seems kind of sad, though, Monsieur. If it is him...he and that woman seemed happy together when they got out of the carriage."

"Yes, I suppose so. But this man's hands are drenched in blood. Justice must be served...even if there is sometimes pain when it is." He turned back to the house.

"Ouch!" cried the young man loudly.

"What the hell is the matter with you? Do you wish us to get caught?"

"I just stuck my knee into a branch. This place is going to be the end..." He did not finish his sentence. The front door of the home flew open and a dark figure came toward them in a mad scramble.

"Damn it! We have been seen! Run but ready your gun!" The two officers quickly turned and began to sprint back to where they had left their horses. The approaching man was coming upon them quickly, inhumanly quickly. In the moonlight, the older officer could make out a white object on the figure's face, the infamous white mask so often described. "It is him," he said quietly.

"Should I shoot?" asked the younger.

"You may try, but do not let it slow you down." The young man fired several shots, but it was too dark to aim correctly. He could barely see where his barrel was pointing.

"He has something in his hand!" exclaimed the younger, looking back. "A rope of some kind!"

"Stop shooting or you are going to be killed! Just keep going!" Suddenly the masked man got within several yards of them, and the younger saw a flash of a rope just inches from his head. He gasped as he felt the rush of air next to his cheek.

"Good God! He is trying to kill us with that thing!" As the rope flew at them again, the elder officer knew it was only a matter of seconds before they both had their necks broken. Desperately he aimed his gun and fired one quick shot. It echoed throughout the woods, sending the sound of wings flapping into the air around them. The two men heard a slight cry, and the shadowed man disappeared behind them into the darkness of the trees. There was silence.

"Did you hit him?" asked the young man, eyes wide.

"I...I think so," he panted.

"Should we go back and look for a body?"

"No... No. It is too dark to see where he fell, and we do not know how badly he is injured. He could still be deadly. We shall bring the rest of the police force in the light, and pray he is either dead or too wounded to run far."

"And the woman?" The younger man felt a slight sadness go through him at the thought of her waiting unsuspectingly in the house by herself.

The elder sighed, tiredly. "Her fate will depend on the circumstances."

They recovered their horses and rode off to the closest guard post.


	32. Down Once More

**Here is the last chapter! Thank you guys so much! Your reviews have meant everything, every single one of them! It has been a wonderful experience and hopefully you'll see me with another story some time in the future...**

**Well, I hope everyone is okay with the ending. I think that it goes along well with the tone of the story. If anybody really dislikes the ending, wishes for a sequel, or maybe just wants a fluffy Valentine's Day epilogue, please tell me, and I'll take it into consideration. Thank you all so much again for your support and help! Read and Review!**

She had heard several rapid gunshots from where she stood in the bedroom, each one making her cringe in horror as she stared out the window, trying to discern the shadows below. And then, several seconds later, there was that one final shot, distantly echoing into the night. Then there was silence. A chill went through her body as she unsteadily began to walk toward the bedroom door. In a daze, she exited the room and made her way to the steps. Grasping onto the railing for support, Christine descended down the stairs into the dark, each step creaking softly in distress as she laid her weight upon it. _Oh God... Please...No..._

The bottom floor was pitch black, as a cloud had passed over the half moon. Blindly she felt her way to the front door, her heart beating rapidly in panic. All shadows seemed to reach out toward her, beckoning her to become lost within them. Finally, she opened the door and stepped out into the night air. The moon appeared again and lit the land before her, guiding her toward the woods. Wrapping her arms around herself for both warmth and solace, Christine walked toward the abyss of trees, praying that he was in there...that he was alive, but she saw no movement.

As she got closer, she drew in a deep breath of air and forced herself to speak. "Erik!" she choked out. "Erik! Where are you?" A sob muffled her words, as she felt her way through the bramble, branches roughly scratching her face and tearing the seams of her dress. She could see nothing in front of her as the trees blocked all moonlight. Finally, knowing she would never find her way to him in the dark, she gathered all her strength and pressed it into one word. "Erik!" she screamed as loudly as she could. With exhaustion she leaned against the trunk of a tree, awaiting his response. If he were alive...there was no way that he could not have heard her that time...

He lay there on the frigid ground, the dust settling softly around the sides of his face, onto his hair. In the top of his right shoulder, a burning pain throbbed, and he could feel the cold wet trickle of blood seeping down his arm. But he had been hurt worse than this before. It had not entered the bone...just passed through the skin, perhaps slightly grazing the muscle tissue. No...it was not the wound that kept him from getting up.

Once he had been hit, he knew he would no longer be able to throw the lasso effectively, at least not in time to kill both of them. And...even if only one made it back alive, that was all that was needed to destroy everything. So as the sharp pain hit his shoulder, and the force sent him to the ground, he did not get back up. There was no point. It was over.

They would be back, he knew, with at least twenty more men armed with rifles. Within hours, the entire property would be surrounded...all dreams of normalcy at an end. Now they would have to flee again into the night, this time with no set destination...and when the sun came up, they would have to hide. They would always have to hide...

Slowly he brought himself up to his knees and brushed the dust from his fingers. His shoulder continued to throb with a dull, steady ache, but he knew the wound would not be fatal. A hopelessness overtook him, a feeling of helplessness that he had sworn never to feel again. "I just wanted a life," he whispered desperately. "Just to be left alone...to be with her. She is the only thing in my life that has ever been pure...been right. My God, she wishes for me to hold her and kiss her, despite everything...despite my monstrosity. My own mother would not kiss me...and still I cannot live in peace! Still I am hunted...except now... I will destroy her life as well as my own." He closed his eyes. "No! I will not do that!" Tears began to fall down his cheeks, as he realized what his next action had to be. Though all instincts spoke against it, if he ever committed one decent act in his life, it would be now...for her.

"Erik!" he heard the desperate shout echo into the woods. She was looking for him, and he did not want her to suffer. Slowly he made his way back to the house, able to see after many years of living in the darkness.

"Christine," he called, just loud enough for her to hear him.

Blindly she ran toward the voice in the little light that was left, twigs snapping rapidly under her feet. "Erik!" she searched with her hands. "Erik!" He could see her wandering around and grabbed her arm tightly. "Erik!" she said, her body collapsing against him in relief, a sob rattling her. "I..I heard gunshots. I thought...Your shoulder...it is wet...are you injured? Erik...what happened?" He could feel her breathing against him, her heart pounding quickly in her chest.

For a moment he said nothing and just held on to her tightly, her forehead a soothing pressure against his wound. Slowly he took her hand and guided her out of the woods and back into the moonlight. "Erik, what is going on?" she asked frantically. Now she was able to see his expression, and the look of defeat on his face frightened her.

He took a deep breath and turned to her. "It...it was two police officers. They fled, but they will be back with more men soon."

"Your shoulder..." she began, tenderly touching it with her fingers.

"It will not be fatal, Christine. That is not how I will meet my end tonight."

"Then we must run!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide as the adrenaline began to course through her. "Hurry. Nothing is unpacked yet!" She began to flee to the carriage, but Erik grabbed her by the arm and held her in place. "What are you doing? We have to leave here now!"

"No, Christine," he said softly. "Do you not understand? No matter where we go, we will always have to hide. We will always be hunted and threatened, and blood will always be shed. I...I cannot condemn you to that kind of life. It is no life."

"Erik! No! Why...why are you saying this? We must go!" She was beginning to become frantic now, tugging desperately at his arm, tears of panic beginning to run down her scratched cheeks.

"Christine...stay here. Tell them...tell them I held you against your will. Then...find someone who can give you happiness. Find...find the boy if you must." He tried to remain calm, to not fall sobbing to the ground in despair of what he was about to lose.

"Erik! Please, no!" Her voice had become hoarse with her cries. "I am going wherever you go! I do not care about the house! We will run tonight...and someday we will have a home and a wedding and whatever else we are supposed to have. But right now we have to get away!"

"Christine...why do you insist on staying with me? Don't you understand what kind of life you are asking for? Why do you torture yourself so?" He grabbed her firmly by the arms and looked into her eyes.

"Because.." she sobbed, her shoulders going limp to his touch. "Because I need you to be with me. And...and I love you."

He could feel himself coming apart with those glorious words, wanting nothing more than to tightly embrace her...to hold onto her for dear life. But if he did...he knew that he would never let her go. He would bring her down into the dark with him. "Christine, you do not know what you say. You do not know what you are condemning yourself to. Do you wish to just keep running, Christine? To live a life of total isolation? Do you wish to follow me straight to the gates of hell because that is likely where I will end up!"

"Erik, we will be fine! I do not care where we go, or if any one else is there! I just want to be with you! Please! I love you!" She finally released herself from his grip and fell to the ground in a sobbing heap.

For a moment, he started to turn away from her hunched form, to walk away from her pleading cries. He could just disappear, remain as nothing but a shadowy memory in her mind as she found a life in the light again. But to both his relief and dismay, he found that he could not bring himself to move. Unable to hold back from her any longer, he fell to his knees and grabbed her into his arms, desperately holding her into his chest, placing kisses into her hair, letting her cry onto his shoulder. She had condemned herself, and he no longer had the strength to prevent her from doing so. She was his...would always be. As he held her, Erik felt a calm settle over him, realizing that he now had only one objective. He would do whatever was in his power to see that they survived the night.

Quickly Erik bounded up from the ground, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. "Let us go then Christine," he said quietly. Relief flooded her pale features as she shakily stood up with him. The defeat was gone from his face, replaced by stern, cold resolve. She released a quiet sob of hope and clutched on to him as he firmly led her to the carriage.

Silently, he hitched the horses up, unloading some of the heavier material so as not to be slowed down. Christine reached back and took an old red scarf from among her belongings. Erik allowed her to tie it around his arm to prevent more blood loss, giving her a loving kiss on the head as she stepped away.

He helped Christine up into the carriage and then climbed in, quickly steering the horses into what was left of the night. Christine gripped tightly to his arm, her heart calming some. Within hours, the house was far behind them...and Paris was no longer visible as even a dim light in the distance. He avoided all public roads, staying within the woods...alert to any person that may be near them. Should anyone cross his path that night, despite his wound, they would meet their immediate end...possibly even if they did not mean ill intent.

Christine dozed against him for a while but was soon awoken by a glaring light. The sun had begun to rise up before them, seeping through the trees. For Christine's sake, Erik let it shine down on them and even took off his mask for a moment, letting the rays fall upon his face. Christine gave him a kiss upon his marred cheek, and he tilted his head against her affectionately.

But both knew that they would have to hide soon...wait for the darkness to fall so that they could journey discreetly into the night again. But Christine did not care.

As the orange orb of fire rose higher in the sky, she turned her face away from the garish light and hid her head within Erik's shoulder.

The sun had become much too bright for her eyes.

_**FIN**_


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